


Luctor et Emergo

by Kobo



Series: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Coming of Age, F/M, Gen, Slow Burn, eventual rebelcaptain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo
Summary: The Empire reigns over wizarding England, despite the resistence of many brave members of the Alliance. As Jyn Erso enters Hogwarts, she's forced to choose a side: stay in the shadows and allow whatever her father is designing come to life, or stand against the atrocities of bloody purity and fight for what she knows is right?[Rogue One, meetHarry Potter]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! So I published [Good Game](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10549118) almost a month ago now and, even though I promised I was working diligently to get this published... Well, life happened. This is here now. 
> 
> Speaking of [Good Game](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10549118), that story was published before I finished fully plotting out this fic. So, sometime in the future, one of the chapters of this fic will be Good Game... But it'll be different. I considered taking it down, but I really like it as is (even if it doesn't fit the canon of this universe anymore) so there it stays. Just wanted to warn you all.
> 
> I have to send out two big thank yous... One to [SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn/pseuds/SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn) for editing this for me and hitting me over the head with logic when I need it (which is often) and also to [Valcain](http://valcain.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr who made a beautiful graphic for this fic! (Check it out [here](https://rxbxlcaptain.tumblr.com/post/160233260113/luctor-et-emergo-the-empire-reigns-over-wizarding)!)

Galen Erso lounged near the open window of his small farmhouse, enjoying the moment of relaxation of a summer day. Little happened in the muggle town of Lah’mu, and even less on their private farm, making it the perfect place for the Ersos to hide from the Empire and the likes of Orson Krennic. Lah’mu allowed his daughter to play freely, as she did now; sounds of her make believe floated lazily through the window. A book, not on advanced transfiguration or wand lore, but on muggle farming techniques lay forgotten on the table in front of him, next to a mug of quickly cooling tea. Galen’s right hand twitched automatically for his wand to readjust the temperature, but he stopped himself. Perhaps this level of caution was ridiculous; Galen was long past the age of seventeen, so no trace followed his use of magic. Still, he and Lyra had agreed; every caution needed to be taken to stay hidden from the Empire and Orson Krennic. He and Lyra retired the use of their wands on a day to day basis and attempted to keep Jyn’s accidental magic to a minimum. More would need to be done before she turned eleven, but until then –

An alarm blared from the kitchen, and Galen shot upright. He rushed to their collection of protective objects – sneakoscopes and foe-glass and alerts connected to the anti-apparation wards outside. To Galen’s dismay, the alarm was not a simple malfunction of one enchantment past its prime, but the entire line screaming in distress. Orson Krennic, accompanied by an entire line of aurors cloaked in all black robes, shone in the face of the sneakoscope.

“Galen.” His wife spoke from the door to the kitchen. “Is it him?”

As he nodded, his wife’s face hardened into fierce determination, but Galen knew her well enough to see the fear leaking into her eyes. “I’ll gather our things. Where’s Jyn?”

In answer to her mother’s question, Jyn scampered through the door, her twin braids flapping behind her. “Mama, someone’s coming!”

“We know.” Lyra led her back into the bedroom as Galen moved towards his study, grabbing his wand as he went. Subtleties served no purpose now. Piles of research he’d kept – out of sentiment or out of some misplaced form of pride – were reduced to flames as he muttered, “ _ Incendio! _ ” over and over, tossing each pile into the fireplace as he exited. Next, Galen flicked his wand to unlock the bottom drawer of his desk, which housed the last line of defense for his family: the invisibility cloak given to him by his father, who inherited it from his father before him. Now, Jyn would take it from him – not for pranks or late night trips to the Hogwarts kitchens Galen had used it for, but for necessity and protection. 

He hurried back into the kitchen to meet Jyn and Lyra. Across the room, a glowing blue wolf bounded out of Lyra’s wand, trotting around her as she spoke to it. “Saw, he’s come for us. We’ll be there soon.” A message of warning to the man who would be their savior.

Crouching down, Galen whispered, “Jyn, come here,” and took her hands in his. “Remember, whatever I do, I do it to protect you.” She would stay brave, his Jyn, no matter what happened, but Galen needed her to understand. No matter the outcome, he needed her to know. “Say you understand.”

“I understand.”

Jyn’s chin tilted up and her face was set – still a child and  s o much like her mother already. Though perhaps it was his own arrogance he saw reflected in her words for how could she understand? The ugly situation he had dragged his family into – the mess of political scheming and selfish curiosity – was a stain of adulthood, far from the childhood innocence Jyn still lived.

But he had no time to consider it, pulling Jyn into his arms. His eyes found Lyra’s as he clutched their daughter against him. “I love you, Stardust.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

“Galen.”

Keeping Jyn in his arms, Galen reached for Lyra. Together, they’d disapparate away from the farm house, to hide with Saw Gerrera until more protective charms had been found and another safe house created. Gripping Jyn tight, Galen stepped forward, twisting, expecting to hear the  _ pop! _ Of disapparation and its trademark disorientation. Instead, he opened his eyes to the same kitchen, neither he or his wife having moved.

With the wide eyes of dawning realization, Lyra growled, “He’s cut off our ability to apparate.”

Galen’s mind flashed through a realm of different escape plans. Floo powder wouldn’t work with the muggle fireplace; any attempt to flee on the family’s dated broomsticks would no doubt be outstripped by Krennic’s men in a matter of minutes. Galen focused on the last possible means of escape: the invisibility cloak in his hands, and a hatch above a dug hole in the ground. Placing his daughter on the floor, Galen steeled himself to the idea.

“Take Jyn,” he instructed Lyra. “I’ll distract him.”

“That isn’t the plan,” she snapped. “We stay together.”

“Lyra.” He pressed the cloak into her hand and glanced out the window where the line of men crested the top of a nearby hill. “We don’t have time to debate this. Take Jyn. Stay hidden. Run until the ward disappears.” He cupped her face with his hands. “I’ll find you. I promise.”

Galen didn’t allow her time to disagree; he marched out the door to meet his fate, trusting his wife to ensure a better option for herself and their daughter. She had never failed him before.

* * *

 

 

As Papa hurried out the front door of the house, Mama grabbed Jyn’s hand, pulling her in the opposite direction.

“Mama, where –“

“Jyn, stay quiet.” Mama hardly ever yelled at her – Jyn was a good girl who didn’t need to punished often – and this was the sharpest Jyn had ever heard her mother’s voice. Mama’s pull on her wrist ached as she ran, stumbling to keep up. Even crouched low into the grass, Mama moved much faster than Jyn’s tiny legs could carry her.

As they topped the hill behind the house, Jyn dropped to the moist soil beside her mother. She scanned the distant field, like her mother did, and spied a line of men approaching her father. Jyn thought of the alarms that had blared within the house. Did these men cause them?

Then the man in the middle – dressed in glowing white robes to stand out among his darkly dressed companions – caught Jyn’s attention.

“Mama –“ Jyn remembered to stay quiet this time. “Mama, I know that man.” Before Mama and Papa moved her to the farm, they had lived in Hogsmeade. Her father had taught at Hogwarts, and the man in white had worked with him. Some days, he’d follow her father into the village and stay long past dinner and Jyn’s bedtime.

“ _ Shh _ ,” her mother quieted her. She stopped to wrap the silvery cloak around herself and Jyn. “We need to keep moving, Jyn.”

Jyn followed obediently down the hill and into the field beyond. Every few seconds, Mama’s head turned back to the house, and Jyn knew she was thinking of Papa, because she was too. Finally, Mama stopped Jyn with an outstretched hand.

“Do you remember where to go? Your father’s hiding spot?” Jyn nodded, thinking of the games Papa played with her, practicing finding the hole from all parts of the farm. “Good. Wait for me there.”

Tears welled in Jyn’s eyes. Mama was being too serious, and Jyn was scared. This didn’t feel like a game at all, anymore.

Reaching behind her neck, Mama untied the cord of her necklace, and moved it to Jyn’s neck. The pendant fell to her throat, cool against her warm skin. She stayed still, confused. This was Mama’s favorite necklace, one she never took off. Why would she be giving it to Jyn?

“Trust the Force,” Mama urged, but her smile wasn’t right at all. Jyn’s mind whirled, unable to make sense of the situation.

“Mama –“

“I’ll be there. Now go.”

Just like Papa had, Mama headed towards the strange men, pulling her wand out from beneath her robes. Jyn continued down her path – she was a good girl who did what her parents told her, after all – but she, like Mama, kept glancing over her shoulder every few moments. The house lay behind the hill now, out of sight, but if Jyn strained her ears, she heard voices. Whether they belonged to her parents or the strange group of men, she couldn’t tell.

Her heart pounded in her chest, struggling against her rib cage. Jyn glanced forward to where the hatch in the ground lay and then backwards to where her parents had gone. Like her Mama, Jyn made a decision. Keeping her father’s cloak secure over her head, she ran back to the house.

All the adults stayed clustered around the front of the house. Her path to the back door was clear. 

Jyn sneaked in, careful to avoid the floorboards that creaked, and, still invisible beneath the cloak, she peered out the front window. The scene there made little sense.

The man in white stood fifty yards back from the house, her father nearby. Both faced the house – or, more accurately, faced her mother, who’s wand extended back towards them. Fear flooded through Jyn as she realized the black-clad men had their wands extended as well. Six wands pointed towards her mother. Jyn felt as though she could barely breathe.

Though glass and distance separated her from her parents, Jyn strained her ears to pick up the conversation. Luckily, the man in white spoke loudly, and the wind carried his voice back to her.

“No, of course I’m not. I’m taking you all! You, your child.” Jyn slid down, suddenly afraid the man would see her in the window. “You’ll all live in comfort.”

Mama’s response was too quiet to catch, but the man in white retorted, “As heroes of the Empire.”

Papa reached his hand out towards Mama, saying something softly. The details of his face were out of focus – oh, if only they were closer! – but Jyn guessed the terror gripping her affected Papa as well. Mama’s wand faltered for only a moment at his words before regaining its steady position, pointed towards the man in white.

The next few moments happened all at once.

Mama shook her head. A red jet flew from the end of her wand. The man in white shouted something to his guards, and green lights raced towards Mama. Green covered the entire landscape, shining over Papa’s face and dying the white robes of the man in the middle.

Her body jerked with the force of the impact, and she fell to the ground. Papa rushed towards her and cradled her in his arms, like he’d do for Jyn. But Mama wasn’t a child like Jyn. Mama was strong. She’d get up all on her own…

But she didn’t. Mama stayed still in Papa’s arms and the horrible truth dawned on Jyn.

Tears raced down her face, clogging her throat. Horror clawed at her insides. Her chest heaved, desperate to draw in air, but as Jyn opened her mouth, it was only to release a horrified, pain filled scream. Windows shattered around her, and broken glass hit her face. She didn’t care; she couldn’t care. Green light colored her vision; panic tinted her thoughts.

_ Mama _ , she cried inside her head.  _ Mama, come back! _

Without thinking, Jyn dropped the invisibly cloak behind her and sprinted towards her father.

* * *

 

 

Galen spun towards the cry, releasing his hold on his wife.  _ Jyn! _ She must have stayed too close, not run when Galen had told her to, followed her mother back to where he met Krennic. Galen prayed his invisibility cloak had stayed secure over her, that she hid there – he ignored the voice reminding him how feeble that defense was – when he saw her dart out of the house. The troopers in black rushed towards her, ready to snatch her away, but Galen moved faster.

“Jyn, Jyn,” he repeated as he swept his daughter into his arms.  _ You used to fit here better, _ Galen thought absently.  _ I used to be able to protect you in my arms. _ “I’ve got you, Stardust.” Galen examined the blood on her face – scratches from the glass broken by her uncontrolled outcry of magic.

“Papa, Papa, where’s Mama?” Jyn cried, twisting in his arms to see her mother. Galen gently pushed her face into his shoulder, keeping her still. She didn’t need to see Lyra lying in the mud. The image would be burned into his memory forever; he didn’t want it in hers as well.

“Stardust, look at me.” Jyn told him she understood – the situation, her mother’s fear, the need for her to stay safely hidden under Galen’s invisibility cloak – but Galen had known better; she was just a child, thrown into an adult’s game of chess she could not understand. But he needed her to understand now. “I’ll keep you safe, Jyn. I promise.”

Behind him, Krennic snorted. Galen found bitter satisfaction to discover his tone laced with pain from Lyra’s curse. “You’ve done anything but keep her safe, Galen. Keeping her in Hogsmeade would have kept her safe, not cowering like children in the middle of nowhere. Lying to her won’t help now. Just look at what that got her mother.”

Jyn whimpered in his arms, and Galen resisted the urge to growl at the man. Instead, he moved his hands across Jyn’s back, but the movement was too rushed, too jerky to be truly soothing. His mind buzzed with answers for Krennic – anywhere from docile submissions to drawing his wand on the man – but he kept silent for fear of saying the wrong thing and making the situation worse.

“Guards, take Miss Erso from her father. I need to speak with him, and she’ll be a distraction.”

Jyn cried and clung to her father’s neck, but Galen didn’t fight the gloved hands reaching for her. He tried to reassure Jyn, to tell her he’d be right behind her, but his words came out strained and jumbled like his thoughts. Jyn kicked out at the guards, catching one in the shin and the other in the knee.

“Can’t you subdue a child?” Krennic barked at the men. He reached with his uninjured arm. “ _ Stupefy _ !”

“Jyn, no!” Galen shouted as the red bolt shot towards Jyn. She crumpled as it collided with her chest, and Galen reached desperately for a pulse. It beat steady – Krennic’s curse hadn’t been damaging to her – but the lazy way her head rolled to the side – just like Lyra’s, too much like Lyra’s lifeless head – sent an unparalleled panic through Galen. How could he allow this to happen to his daughter?

“The less you fight, the safer she’ll be, Galen,” Krennic reminded him. He snapped more orders at the guards and Galen watched them depart, levitating Jyn alongside them. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, your return to Hogwarts. And the Emperor’s project.”

Galen remained silent for a moment, watching the guards disappear with Jyn. His wife’s body still lay at his feet. The cold dampness of the soil must be soaking into her clothes. She’d be getting cold – if she were alive.

“Whatever you’ve tried to build here has died, Galen. Come back with me. The Emperor will forgive your transgressions in exchange for your work. Your child will live in safety and comfort.”

For once in his life, Galen Erso did not have a plan. He did not know what the next best step would be, nor find a logical way out of this problem. All he understood was the burning desire within him to  _ protect _ , to ensure Jyn’s safety. If he guaranteed nothing else, he would guarantee that. He owed Lyra that much.

“She’s staying with me, Krennic. I won’t allow this any other way.” Galen met the other man’s gaze straight on, hard as steel, refusing to back down. “You need me to come with you, and I need Jyn to come with me.”

“You know I can’t have the child disturbing your work, Galen.” Krennic’s voice remained honey smooth, as if everything was normal. As if his shoulder wasn’t smoking and Galen’s wife wasn’t lying dead mere meters away. “Though, perhaps…”

Galen bristled at Krennic’s attempt to bait him. No matter how self-assured Galen acted, both men knew who had the upper hand here.

“I’ll compromise with you,” Krennic said – like this conversation was a negotiation and Galen could banter back. “Jyn can stay with you during the summers, while Hogwarts is out of session. During the year, I’ll take over responsibility for her care.” He punctuated his words with a glance back to Lyra’s body, a gentle reminder to Galen of what he could – and was willing – to do if he met resistance.

Every muscle in Galen’s body had gone rigid; his blood ran cold through his veins. Running from Hogsmeade, keeping a low profile on the farm, restricting his use of magic to the bare minimum: what had it gotten Galen, how had it protected his family? His wife was dead; his daughter was to be taken prisoner. And Galen felt helpless against all of it.

“Do you agree, Galen?” Krennic prompted.

Galen bit back a scathing retort at the man’s rhetorical question, forcing himself to remain level headed.  _ For Jyn’s sake, _ he reminded himself. The job of protecting her fell solely into his hands now. Even this scrap of a compromise Krennic offered was better than no chance at protecting Jyn at all; he had no choice but to agree.

“If she is returned to me in less than perfect condition…

Krennic waved off his frail threat. “No harm will come to the child. After all —” The sinister, arrogant smile returned to Krennic’s face. “— She’ll need to be ready for Hogwarts in a few years.” He glanced back to the house, where the shattered glass turned the windows into deadly teeth. “That’s powerful magic she has already.”

He began walking towards his men, but paused and chortled for a moment. “Yes, she’ll look lovely in Slytherin green.”


	2. The Letters / The Hogwarts Express / The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome To Hogwarts! 
> 
> I know there's been a lot of debate over what House each of the characters would be in, so I'd like to say that these are my personal headcanons for them and you are free to disagree, but these are the Houses they'll be in for any Hogwarts stories I write. My longer reasoning for reach of the crew can be found on Tumblr (Check out [Cassian's](https://rxbxlcaptain.tumblr.com/post/159153979023/dear-lovely-followers), [Jyn's](https://rxbxlcaptain.tumblr.com/post/159155042163/1-oh-man-sorting-rogue-one-into-hogwarts-houses), and [Bodhi's](https://rxbxlcaptain.tumblr.com/post/159306528758/oh-m-god-bodhi-is-neville)!)

 

_The Letters_

 

His eleventh birthday. His father had always talked about his eleventh birthday.

The stories of portraits that talked and staircases that moved; tales of the ever-changing roof of the Great Hall and ghosts floating along the corridors: they always started with his eleventh birthday.

“Someday, Cassian,” his father would say as he tucked him in for bed at night, “Someday an owl will come knocking at the front window, but it won’t be for me this time. Do you know who it’ll be for?”

And Cassian, wide eyed and eager no matter how many times he heard the story, would ask who it would be for, and his father would smile – an easy-going smile that made everyone love him; a smile Cassian longed to imitate – and point a finger to Cassian’s chest, just above his heart. “It’ll be for you, and it’ll be carrying a letter. And where will it invite you to?”

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Cassian would shout.

But that was a long time ago. No one other than Cassian himself – and those mockingly repeating him – mentioned Hogwarts for five years. Five long years since his father tucked him in at night, since his mother had whispered I love you with a kiss. Five years since Cassian had been found crying over his parents’ lifeless bodies in his kitchen in a scene no one would make heads nor tails of.

Neither body had any physical wounds, nor had either Jeron or Rita Andor been remarkably ill before their deaths. No autopsy found adequate cause of death for the couple. No police understood why only a child – their child, no less – had been found with the bodies, and no evidence to suggest anyone had broken into the house.

Rumors followed Cassian away from his home in Fest to his aunt and uncle’s in London.

“That’s the boy, the one who killed his parents.”

His aunt snapped whenever she heard such murmuring, or any such murmuring about Cassian in general. Overall, Aunt Julia preferred for the neighbors to never mention her sister’s son at all. No matter what Cassian did, she and Uncle Rufus never seemed happy to have him in their care. The more time he spent outside or in his room and away from the common areas of the house – the kitchen, the living room with the television or Uncle Rufus’s study – the better. Cassian decided, no matter how Aunt Julia attempted to squash the rumors surrounding his parents’ mysterious death, she must believe them herself.

The only place Cassian found himself appreciated was at school. The other children didn’t consider Cassian strange or cursed at all. In fact, Cassian quickly became popular among his peers, following an incident where several cookies, obeying Cassian’s command, rolled away from the teacher’s desk and towards the students. The children were disappointed it only happened once (“I can’t make it happen on command!” Cassian explained to them one day. “That’s why it’s called accidental.”) but were distinctly appeased when the teacher’s ruler, a strict form of punishment around school, broke before either Cassian or any of the other children could be swatted.

Some days on the playground, Cassian would share the same stories his father told him. Saying them aloud kept them alive in Cassian’s mind; he pictured the flock of owls swooping in over breakfast, nearly knocking over glasses of pumpkin juice and landing in freshly buttered toast, or the wind tousling his hair while describing a Quidditch match. Wide eyes – Cassian remembered giving those same wide eyes to his father as he told these stories – stared in amazement as Cassian made the stories come to life, flying his hands like the owls or waving an imaginary wand over the group. Once or twice, red and blue sparks escaped the end of his pencil – something Cassian only regretted because he had no idea how to do it again.

Once again, the adults’ reaction was very different than the children’s. Where Cassian’s tricks and stories would earn cheers from the children, it only earned only disdain from his teachers and neighbors.

“They had some interesting things in that house,” one of their neighbors gossiped during weekly book club meetings after carefully checked Aunt Julia was still in the kitchen grabbing fresh biscuits. She’d forgotten to glance around the corner to where an eager Cassian lingered with his ear pressed against the door. “A cellar full of roots and animal’s organs. Books that had no place near a child. I believe they even had owls in the house, of all the strange things.”

Once, Cassian corrected the woman who added, “You don’t think his mother dabbled in witchcraft, do you?” by informing her his mother was not a witch; his father was the wizard of the family, and someday, he would be too.

Aunt Julia no longer allowed Cassian in the house during book club meetings.

As he grew older and the adults around him “grew tired of hearing such poppycock” and the tales of Hogwarts from Cassian and his accidental magic rebranded him as a “freak” around the other boys, Cassian began doubting his words. His father had spoken of a castle so real Cassian wanted to reach out and touch it; he assumed the same would be true of the others. He knew not everyone attended Hogwarts – his mother hadn’t gone, after all, but she still loved to listen to his father’s stories, the same as Cassian – but why did no one know about it? Cassian longed to visit his father, to beg his father to assure him that it was real: the owl coming with the letter, the train from London, the castle, all of it.

But his father was dead and couldn’t reassure Cassian of anything anymore.

So, Cassian waited and waited for his father’s most repeated promise: his eleventh birthday would be the most important day of his life.

As Cassian awoke on March 23rd, his eyes dashed to the window, hoping beyond hope to find an owl sitting there, a letter with a red wax seal tied to its leg. No such bird waited on the window sill of his room.

That’s alright, Cassian reminded himself. Perhaps it’s harder for an owl to find a house with no wizards, so it’ll be here later.

The smell of cooking bacon didn’t attract any owls during breakfast, nor did any owls appear on his walk to school. Cassian spent more time staring out the windows to scan the skies during the school day than focusing on his lessons.

The walk back home after school seemed just as fruitless as the walk to school. Cassian’s shoulders slumped. He felt as though he were about to cry. Had it been make believe, all these years? Had his father’s stories never been more than that – stories told to entertain his young son?

“Cassian, dear, come into Uncle Rufus’s office, please,” Aunt Julia called as Cassian shuffled through the front door, her voice sweeter than normal.

Someone must be visiting, Cassian reasoned. That was the voice his aunt adopted when those of importance came to dinner, though Cassian was almost never invited to join those occasions, unless the idea of taking in her late sister’s orphan would earn a positive response from the visitor.

As Cassian walked closer, Aunt Julia held out her arms, but rather than giving Cassian a hug, as most would expect, she pinched his upper arm, hard enough for Cassian to wince. “Behave yourself in there,” Aunt Julia hissed in his ear. “Listen to what your uncle and I tell you.”

A strange flash of hope flared through Cassian’s chest. His aunt rarely got so defensive, but Cassian knew the quickest way to garner such a response from her: mention his father’s stories of Hogwarts. Did his owl from Hogwarts await him within the study?

Cassian was incorrect; no owl awaited him within the study. His connections with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, however, did.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Andor.” A man rose from one of Uncle Rufus’s leather chairs to greet him. “Yes, I would recognize you anywhere. You look much like your father did.”

Cassian’s heart leap in his chest. The embers of his hope ignited with the older man’s kind smile. He wanted to speak, wanted to ask this man more about his father and beg him to assure him Hogwarts was real, but his aunt’s hand on his shoulder kept him silent.

“I’m Headmaster Kenobi of Hogwarts School, where your father once attended. I’ve come to offer you enrollment for next fall.”

His aunt and uncle, who was seated on the opposite side of the desk, exchanged a panicked look. “Sir, I believe I was telling you that we simply do not have the funding to send the boy to a private school…”

Headmaster Kenobi looked around the lavishly decorated office with raised eyebrows. “Money will be of no issue, Mr. Bechtel. Cassian’s father ensured funding for him to attend school when he reached the proper age.”

“We never learned of such an arrangement,” Uncle Rufus said, shocked. Cassian, who had nothing that once belonged to his parents, listened closer at the news. “But you cannot expect us to send the boy off to a school of illegitimate science that calls itself magic.” Uncle Rufus’s voice curled in disgust around the final word.

“I must assure you, Mr. Bechtel, that the magic taught at Hogwarts is no parlor trick or mere illusion, like you would see in your world, but instead a true supernatural ability.” Professor Kenobi paused, pulling a wooden wand out of the pocket of his suit jacket. “Perhaps you’d enjoy a demonstration.”

While his aunt and uncle leaned back in fear, Cassian’s eyes lit up with excitement. Though he had never met the man before, Cassian found himself trusting his twinkling eyes and pleasant personality; whatever “demonstration” he offered wouldn’t cause harm, Cassian was sure.

“That will not be necessary,” Uncle Rufus coughed, struggling to keep his composure.

The professor winked at Cassian discretely, and the boy held back a laugh. “Then, if you believe me, I’d like a moment to discuss his education with Mr. Andor himself, please.”

His uncle gave a hesitant nod before rising from his seat, directing his wife out the door with him. Aunt Julia gave Cassian’s arm another squeeze – another reminder to behave himself – before following her husband.

When they had gone, Professor Kenobi smiled and said, “Well, Mr. Andor, it is a great pleasure to meet you at last.” Professor Kenobi indicated the second leather chair next to where he sat, which Cassian hurried to take. “Tell me, what do you know about Hogwarts?”

“My father said my letter would come with an owl,” Cassian blurted out, only belated adding, “Sir.”

Professor Kenobi chuckled. It was a friendly sound, the kind not often made around his aunt and uncle’s house. Rather than friendly, laughter tended to be flattering or manipulative. Professor Kenobi himself, too, appeared caring in a way Cassian was not accustomed to. Despite wrinkles around his eyes and touches of gray around his temples, he still looked young. Except his eyes, Cassian noted. His eyes looked like they had seen many more years than the rest of his body, many of which he longed to forget.

“Most Hogwarts students receive their letters via owl. Your father was correct about that,” the headmaster confirmed. Inside Cassian’s head, a tiny voice repeated, My father was right; my father was right. Professor Kenobi leaned in as he spoke again. “But I knew your father well, both during and after his time at Hogwarts. It seemed wrong for you to receive such an impersonal delivery.”

With that, Kenobi reached towards his pockets, extracting a letter from his plaid tweed jacket, which, Cassian thought, seemed a bit too loose for the man’s thin frame, nor did it match the pattern of the pinstriped trousers the professor wore. All thoughts of his strange clothes flew out of Cassian mind as Professor Kenobi placed the letter in his hand. The back was sealed shut with red wax, a crest stamped into it.

“You’re free to open it now, if you wish.”

Waiting for no further instruction, Cassian tore into the letter.

 

> _Dear Mr. Andor,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._
> 
> _Term begins on September 1_ _st_ _. We await your owl by no later than July 31_ _st_ _._
> 
> _Yours sincerely,_
> 
> _Mon Mothma,_
> 
> _Deputy Headmistress_

“It’s all real, then,” Cassian breathed. The future his father promised was sitting in his hand. He didn’t have an owl, but when Professor Kenobi smiled again – wistful, Cassian decided, his smile was wistful – Cassian knew he’d rather have the professor than just an owl, anyway. “My father – he told me about Hogwarts. Before he died.”

“I was hoping he did.”

“But then,” Cassian hurried on. “No one else knew. Everyone thought I was telling a story, and I thought…”

“You worried it wasn’t real? That your father had built a lovely world to entertain you?” Professor Kenobi guessed, and Cassian nodded, blushing furiously. Only after Professor Kenobi leaned forward in his seat did Cassian glance up at him. “I assure you, Hogwarts is very real. I attended it, as did your father. And now, Cassian, you will as well.”

Thoughts of his father roared through his mind. Warm memories like the Hogwarts stories and comforting embraces, but one horrible thought roared louder than the rest: the morbid image seared on Cassian’s mind since he was six years old, the mystery no one ever unraveled.

“Sir?” Cassian faltered. He remembered clutching his mother’s cold hand and begging for his father to wake up. He remembered their eyes, still open but no longer seeing, but he remembered nothing else from the evening. Not how they’d gotten there, nor why Cassian had survived. But, perhaps, this professor who knew about Hogwarts and knew his father – perhaps this man could explain who or what killed his parents. “How did my parents die?”

The professor sighed. Deep sorrow colored his eyes, and once again Cassian considered how much older they seemed than the rest of them. “When your parents died, the wizarding world was fighting a civil war. There was … a change in the government, and many people – your father included – didn’t agree with what they stood for.” Cassian thought this version of the story was somehow edited, perhaps tamer than the full truth would suggest. “Those on the side of the new government tracked your family down. Friends of your father came in time to save you, but too late to save your parents. For that, Cassian, I am truly sorry.”

Cassian nodded. “But why did they come after us?”

Once again, the professor sighed, and Cassian begun to worry the man’s patience with his questions would quickly dissipate. But Professor Kenobi seemed just to be gathering his thoughts, for he answered a moment later.

“In our world, there is a debate about the merit of blood and lineage. Some argue a wizard whose parents were not also wizards are worth less than those whose parents are – purebloods, if you will. Those without magic are worth even less. Jeron, your father, was a pureblood wizard himself, but he never agreed with their philosophies. Exhibited most, perhaps, in his love of your mother.” Professor Kenobi smiled, and Cassian’s heart warmed at the mention of his mother. Cassian pictured her leaning against the wall of the room, the same look of awe and love on her face as when her father would talk about his days at Hogwarts.

“You mother,” Kenobi continued, “was not a witch of any sort. She was a muggle, or a non-magical person, like her sister who raised you. Though neither Jeron’s parents nor most of the wizarding world approved, your father fell in love with her, married her, had you. Your parent’s deaths were punishment for such a relationship.”

Cassian hardly fathomed this idea. His parents, dead, because of – of what? Because some considered his mother – and his father, since he loved her – less worthy? Hot rage bubbled in his gut. Cassian Andor was not a violent person – for all the trouble he got in, none of it was for fighting – but he longed for something to punch in that moment. He needed to put this anger somewhere.

“That’s—that’s barbaric!” Cassian shouted. “How could someone do that?”

“Magic does not, I’m afraid, cure the basic shortcomings of human beings.” Professor Kenobi remained calm through his explanation, but Cassian wished he would get angry, that his eyes would flash in the same way as his own. “Anger, greed, aggression… The wizarding world suffers from these, same as the muggle world.” Professor Kenobi caught Cassian’s eye before continuing. “But take heart, Mr. Andor, for good remains as well. Love and learning, acceptance and happiness live on in the wizarding world. You will learn this, and more, as you age, Mr. Andor. Do not rush the bitter truths of life into childhood.”

Tears pricked at Cassian’s eyes, and he clinched his jaw to keep them back. He wanted to keep pushing for answers, demand justice, for the death of his parents, but he sensed Kenobi would discuss this no further. He turned, instead, to the other worry plaguing him.

“But, sir, how do you know…” Cassian hesitated over how to describe his concern. “How do you know I belong at your school? What if I’m more like my mother than like my father?”

“Are you asking how I know you’re a wizard?” Cassian nodded, thankful of how gentle the Professor was in answering his questions – most adults would have told him off long ago. “Tell me, Mr. Andor, do strange things ever occur around you? Perhaps when you’re feeling strong emotions? Anger, fear, happiness?”

Cassian thought of the ruler breaking, of the cookies coming back, of the sparks coming out of his pencil when he told the stories of Hogwarts. He nodded.

“Then that’s how I know,” the headmaster answered with confidence, leaning back into his seat. “I trust, once you get your wand, that you will become a great wizard, like your father.”

Cassian’s mind was all in a rush. It couldn’t focus on just one thought: Hogwarts is real and I have my letter, just like Papa said and a wizard, like my father all scattered across his mind like little mice.

“In fact,” Professor Kenobi continued, “With your aunt and uncle’s permission, I’ll take you to purchase your school supplies now. Professor Mothma should have included them with your letter.”

Cassian turned to the previously unexamined second page of the letter, which listed items like a wand, a pair of dragon hide gloves, a telescope set, and some rather interesting books. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection? Were these the strange books left behind in Cassian’s home the women would gossip about?

“Can you buy these in London, sir?"

Another smile from Kenobi. “If you know the right places to look.”

By the time Cassian returned from his trip to Diagon Alley that evening – his new trunk bursting with magical objects, his new cypress wand and his Hogwarts letter clutched in his hand, and his head bubbling with all the new information Professor Kenobi had revealed about the magical world, like Gobstones and transfiguration and Platform 9 ¾ – he could barely stand to see the sight of the place he had called his home for so many years. It was just so ordinary, especially after the alien world Cassian had spent the day in. Kenobi’s parting words to him ran through his head: _Welcome home, Cassian. Welcome home._

 

+

+

+

 

“Jyn, come downstairs.”

Jyn rolled her eyes and didn’t move from her bed. Let Tagge wait. Jyn had spent the past three years memorizing the patterns of her guard’s – oh, she knew Krennic referred to him as a _guardian_ and this house as her _home_ , but Jyn maintained that _guard_ and _prison_ fit much better – patience. She had learned when to stretch it further, and when it would snap. For now, his voice was even, measured; Jyn could afford to lay here.

“Jyn!”

This yell was louder than the last, but not at dangerous levels. If Jyn were searching for special treatment – a trip outside to test one of the old broomsticks or the chance to nab Tagge’s wand – she would respond now. But Jyn had no special plans for today, was content to simply relax into the welcoming comfort of her pillows and map the journeys of the soft clouds floating across the pale blue sky outside. She let Cassio Tagge wait.

“Jyn! Downstairs _now_!”

The sharp crack of the last word hurried Jyn out of bed. She’d tempt the trooper no further this morning. Jyn glanced in the mirror, ensuring her braids were tidy as Tagge – no, _Krennic_ – always demanded, and widened her eyes in innocence before hurrying down the stairs of the small cottage to the front office.

“Did you want something—Papa!” Jyn’s question morphed into a squeal of delight as she noticed the man standing behind her keeper. Her father beamed, kneeling to catch her as she flung herself into his arms, his customary black robe with royal blue – Ravenclaw blue – trim billowing around them as he swung her into the air, lifting her onto his hip. “You’re home early! Term isn’t over until June!”

“I know, Stardust.” Her father stroked her cheek as he spoke. “I can’t stay, but I wanted to bring you something.”

With a jolt, Jyn remembered the date: May 2nd. Today, Jyn Erso turned eleven years old.

(She never bothered to remember her birthday, since Tagge never deemed it important enough to celebrate or even remember. But _eleven_ – how did she forget?)

“Do you have my letter?” Jyn demanded, her eyes lighting up with excitement. The legendary letter she had dreamed of all her life. She’d never imagined her Papa would be allowed to deliver it personally, but what else would he have for her?

Her father reached into his robes, the corners of his lips curling into a smile, and pulled out an envelope. “Something like this, you mean?”

Jyn grabbed for it, eager, and Galen allowed it to be snatched away.

“You’ll spoil her, sir,” Tagge said through gritted teeth, his traditional way to speaking to Galen. Jyn glanced between the two men nervously. This strange power struggle happened whenever Galen and Tagge interacted. Jyn supposed it stemmed from their possessiveness over her – Galen because of his love and Tagge because of Krennic’s orders – and a penumbral hierarchy between them. Krennic had the ultimate say in Jyn’s life; everyone understood that without saying so. But these two stood underneath Krennic’s authority, vaguely parallel in rank, and neither knew who had the right to boss who around, creating awkward impasses whenever their wishes for Jyn diverged.

“It’s an important day.” Galen’s answering words were decisive, laced with authority, and Tagge didn’t dare disagree, though the tension made Jyn want to shudder. “It’s not everyday you get your Hogwarts letter.” Galen turned back to Jyn, his expression softening. “Open it, Stardust.”

She did. The letter itself seemed anticlimactic. Just a few quick sentences, a signature from Professor Mothma, and a supply list. Jyn had expected something much more grandiose from such a momentous occasion.

“What else do you get with your letter, Stardust?” Galen asked, setting her down on the floor.

“My wand,” Jyn grinned, slow and wide, as the importance of the moment hit her. How she had dreamed of this day, when she would have her own wand to summon objects and light up rooms.

Her elation dissipated quickly, however. Who would be accompanying her to Diagon Alley: her doting father or supercilious keeper? “Are you taking me to Diagon Alley, Papa?”

“Yes, I believe so,” her father answered before Tagge had the chance to reply. Tagge opened his mouth, likely to contradict, but caught sight of Galen’s authoritative gaze and backed off. Perhaps, Jyn decided, Tagge was slightly smarter than she gave him credit for. “Why don’t you grab your cloak and we’ll floo over?”

Jyn bounded from the room. Before Mama died, before Krennic took Jyn away from her home, Jyn traveled across the country, visiting important sites in wizarding history, where Mama would explain what had occurred there. Jyn favored the sights themselves over the history, and often complained as such to Mama, but since being kept in the cottage at Eadu Farms with nothing but empty hills and jagged rocks surrounding her for miles, Jyn regretted those words more than anything. How much she would trade to have just one more trip with her Mama! This trip with Papa – even only traveling to London – would be the furthest Jyn had gone since coming to this place, and Jyn couldn’t wait.

Jyn snatched her cloak and hurried back down the stairs, but hesitated a few steps outside the office. Tagge and her father’s voices drifted out, slightly strained and low, the words obviously not meant to travel. Unsurprising, since their conversation centered around Jyn.

“To be frank, sir, I believe Director Krennic may be right.” Jyn never questioned why Tagge referred to Krennic as _director_ rather than _professor_ as most did. “She’ll be put in Slytherin straight away.”

“No,” her father disagreed, and a defiant delight rose in her chest. “She’ll be in Gryffindor, like her mother.”

_Gryffindor like my mother_ , Jyn repeated, _not Slytherin like Orson Krennic._

 

* * *

 

 

_The Hogwarts Express_

 

The months between receiving her letter and leaving on the Hogwarts Express seemed like an eternity to Jyn.

In the years at the little cottage, summer had always been Jyn’s favorite time. Papa returned home from Hogwarts, ready to kiss her goodnight and prepare breakfast in the morning, like life hadn’t changed since Mama died. Rare days without rain meant testing the broomsticks in the shed – Krennic knew Jyn loved flying, so her birthday and Christmas presents were often different variety of racing brooms, in attempt to cozy up to her good side.

This year, when Tagge disapparated moments after Galen’s return, he left Jyn no final goodbye message. Three years together and neither were vexed to leave. With the addition of her wand and her new black cat named Stormy, Jyn assumed this summer would be her best yet.

Or at least as close as possible without Mama.

But after only a few days, in which Galen had been forced to confiscate and hide Jyn’s new holly wand for fear of her breaking underage wizarding laws, Orson Krennic himself appeared on Eadu Farms. To Jyn’s dismay, it was no quick visit. He joined them for dinner, followed Papa into his study – Jyn wanted to tell the man not to disturb her Papa there; Mama always said Papa must be deep in thought if he needs to use his office – and, worst of all, would seek Jyn out, speaking to her in a sickly-sweet voice, or playing with Stormy. Jyn thought this was ridiculous and downright insulting – every swish of Krennic’s bleached robes sent memories of green streaks of light across Jyn’s mind, and Krennic wanted to be _friendly_. But Papa told her she needed to be nice to Krennic. (If Papa hadn’t sounded so serious when he told her, Jyn wouldn’t have listened.)

Jyn longed for September 1st, for the scarlet flash of the Hogwarts Express. She longed for someone else – _anyone else_ – to befriend, and for the sense of belonging she was sure she would find in her house.

In a stroke of luck unlike anything Jyn had experienced in her life, she received her first wish upon arrival at King’s Cross Station. The massive buildings of London and the bustle of the train station captivated Jyn, who had only lived in the isolation of Eadu and Lah’mu or the small town environment of Hogsmeade. Her eyes darted across the station, from the ticket counters to the massive time tables to her father’s hand holding her own, when she spotted the boy across the station. Like Jyn, he pushed a trolley loaded with a trunk and assorted belongings. Unlike Jyn, he traveled alone, glancing between the ticket in his hand and the signs around the station.

“Papa,” Jyn said, tugging on his arm and pointing to the boy. “Do you think he’s going to Hogwarts?”

Galen regarded the boy for a moment. “He does look lost. Perhaps you should ask him, Stardust.”

“Watch Stormy,” Jyn commanded her father as she headed towards the boy. Up close, Jyn noticed the way his sweater hung off him, several sizes too large, and how his hair was cropped short, almost to his scalp. He fidgeted with the glasses on his face, whose thin frame was held together with a piece of tape along the bridge. His nerves were palpable from several meters away.

“Excuse me,” Jyn called when she was close enough. The boy jumped, dropping his ticket. His mouth opened and closed rapidly, as if he wanted to say something but his vocal chords wouldn’t form the words. “I’m sorry, but are you going to Hogwarts?”

“H-Hogwarts? Yes! Yes, I’m going to Hogwarts!” The boy stuttered, his face screaming of relief. “I just—I couldn’t find the platform.”

“I know how,” Jyn boasted with a grin. “My father is a professor at Hogwarts, so I know all about it.”

_Well_ , _not_ all _about it_ , Jyn admitted to herself, but she liked the confidence to her words – the polar opposite of this boy’s stutter, which Jyn thought this conversation needed – so she let them stand.

“You go through that barrier.” Jyn pointed out the brick wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10.

The boy’s eyes flickered between the barrier and Jyn’s face. They were very wide.

Jyn’s thin level of patience broke. “It’s perfectly safe,” she huffed. “People do it every year.” She shoved the boy’s cart forward, glancing over her shoulder to see if he was following. He was. She pushed the cart close to the barrier before remembering her own cart, left behind with Papa. “Wait here,” she commanded, and the boy nodded dumbly.

Jyn hurried back to her father, grabbing the handles of her own cart. “Papa, I need to help him.

He’s going to Hogwarts with me, but he doesn’t know how to get on the platform.”

Galen answered with a chuckle. “Are you attempting to get rid of me, Jyn?”

“Of course not, Papa, but I’ll see you in a few hours, anyway. My friend needs me.”

_My friend_ , Jyn repeated inside her head. _My first friend._

Galen seemed to accept this, for he kneeled and took Jyn’s hands in his. “Then I’m glad you’re here to help him.” Galen pulled Jyn into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll see you at your Sorting, and remember: no matter where the Hat puts you, I’m always proud of you.”

“Of course, Papa.”

“Now go help your friend.” Galen backed away from her cart, and Jyn made her way through the crowd back to the boy, waiting exactly where she’d instructed.

“Was that your father?” He asked, and Jyn nodded. “He seemed nice.”

“You’ll meet him at school. He’s going to be your professor,” Jyn explained. “Where’s your family?”

The boy swallowed, and Jyn heard the sound meters away. “They’re—they couldn’t come,” he finally stammered.

What his family would be doing that was more important than bringing their son to Hogwarts, Jyn couldn’t fathom, but now wasn’t the time to ask. The minutes were ticking away to eleven o’clock, and they needed to get on the platform.

“Come on.” Jyn motioned to the platform. “I’ll go first, and you follow at a bit of a run, alright?”

The boy nodded, and Jyn hesitated before her cart began to move.

“Wait. What’s your name?”

“Bodhi Rook,” he squeaked out.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bodhi Rook.” Jyn stuck out her hand, which Bodhi took shyly.

“I’m Jyn Erso. Let’s go to Hogwarts.”

 

+

+

+

 

Aunt Julia drove Cassian to King’s Cross on September 1st, chattering only about the weather and other innocuous topics. As they pulled up to the station, she assisted Cassian in getting his trunk out of the car and fetched a trolley for him, but paused there, clearly not intending to venture inside the station.

“I know,” she began before clearing her throat. “I know _your type_ have … interesting forms of communication. Rita used to get owls from your father on a daily basis, the nasty things.”

Cassian started at the mention of his parents. In the five years he had been living with his aunt and uncle, he could count the number of times his parents had been mentioned on two hands, and most of those had been within Cassian’s first traumatic months with the Bechtels, begging to know where his parents had gone. To hear Aunt Julia speak of her sister – more than that, her brother-in-law – shocked Cassian.

Aunt Julia hadn’t been looking at him to note his reaction. Instead, she seemed determined to barrel through her words as quickly and with as little emotion as possible. “Disgusting creatures, so do try to limit your letters but,” she paused here and risked glancing at Cassian. “If you do need us, please write.”

She reached for Cassian and clasped his shoulder, rather than giving him a hug.

“Off you go, then,” she said, shooing Cassian along. “Don’t want to be late.”

“Yes, Aunt Julia,” Cassian answered, turning his trolley to the station. He followed the instructions Professor Kenobi had given him and, after a moment’s hesitation, ran into the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10.

The train, just like Diagon Alley and his wand and Headmaster Kenobi himself, amazed Cassian. Unlike the electric trains that traveled through London, this engine billowed smoke into the air of Platform 9 ¾. Teenagers ran to meet friends they had not seen over the summer; parents gave finals goodbyes to their children. Magical parents wore robes distinguishing them from the muggle parents, who looked just as awed by their surroundings as Cassian did. With no one left to say goodbye to – perhaps next term he could convince Aunt Julia to come to the platform with him – Cassian climbed aboard the train, dragging his trunk along behind him.

The compartments bustled with life as students swapped stories and took advantage of being allowed to do magic again. Most students seemed older than Cassian. He shuffled through several sections, dodging unnoticed through the crowds of teenagers and preteens, before he came upon another boy his age. He was alone, reading intently, his back stick straight.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Cassian asked, hesitant. Cassian was accustomed to a lonely life at home – his aunt and uncle didn’t care much for children and Cassian’s popularity at school had plummeted since his rebranding as a “freak” among the other students  – and was not sure how to go about making friends with this sandy haired boy.

_These people know about Hogwarts,_ Cassian reminded himself. _They won’t think you’re a freak._

“Oh.” The boy glanced up from his book and blinked at Cassian for a moment, as if confused about why he was being spoken to. “If you must.”

Not the welcoming greeting Cassian hoped for, but he took it nonetheless. Returning to his book, the boy hardly took notice as Cassian banged his trunk up onto a shelf, before gazing out the window to the platform.

“I’m Cassian,” he offered as the silence stretched on too long for jittery nerves. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, yes, pleasantries. I do suppose we should start there,” the boy sighed. He shut his book with a definitive _snap_ and rose to stand next to Cassian, outstretching his hand. “I’m Kay Tuesso. I was born and raised in London –“ This Cassian guessed already; his accent was posh, the kind born of a life spent among socialites and beautiful row houses in Kensington “— both my parents are wizards. I’m a first year. I’m not sure what house I’ll be in, but I’m hoping for Ravenclaw. And, no, I don’t play Quidditch, nor do I ever desire to do so.” He raised his eyebrows at Cassian. “Will that be sufficient small talk for the moment? I’d like to return to my book.”

The train lurched forward then, and Cassian gave silent thanks for the excuse to delay his response a few seconds while he grabbed the seat behind him. “Yes, that’s fine,” he muttered after a moment, choosing one of the plush seats and staring out the window as the train sped away from the city. Cassian’s bubble of excitement sank, deflated by Kay’s standoffish attitude.

Kay exhaled, deeply and dramatically. “Have I been rude?”

Cassian’s eyes jump back to Kay’s face, slightly startled he was speaking again. “No, no, I didn’t mean—“

“You seemed insulted by my actions. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. I estimate a high probability that it’ll happen again on this journey to school,” Kay explained matter-of-factly. “Mother often tells me that I’m rude, but I never notice.”

Cassian nodded, unsure if he would become the rude one by doing so, but more unsure of what else to do.

“I do apologize,” Kay said, though his tone suggested he didn't mean it at all. “What did you say your name was? Cassian?”

“Cassian Andor.”

“Well, Cassian Andor,” Kay’s high class accent morphed into Cassian’s husky Spanish one as he repeated the name. “I have six pages left in this chapter and, if you don’t mind, I desperately need to discover what happens.”

“Absolutely.” Cassian smiled as Kay returned to his book. He couldn’t explain why, especially since half of their conversation had been sarcastic remarks, but Cassian liked Kay. He seemed like a friend.

Not three minutes later, a girl – another first year judging by her solid black robes – crashed into their compartment, making both boys jump. Chestnut hair flew in all directions, escaping from the braids she’d tried to confine it in to tickle her face. Another boy followed behind the vociferous girl, looking sheepish and apologetic at her actions.

“Everywhere else is full,” the girl huffed. “Can we stay?”

Cassian got the feeling no matter what they answered, the girl would be staying.

“Well then.” Kay glanced up from his book, raising his eyebrows at the newcomers.

The girl snorted and turned to Cassian, sticking out her hand. “I’m Jyn. This is Bodhi.” She pointed back to the other boy, who still stood in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to another awkwardly. “Are you two first years as well?”

Cassian confirmed, yes, they were also first years and introduced the two of them. “You can sit down, you know.” Jyn plopped down without hesitation, but Bodhi paused for a moment. “You too, Bodhi.”

“T-thank you.” Whatever nerves Cassian felt coming onto the train were vastly outnumbered by Bodhi; his eyes danced around the compartment, never pausing long, and his fingers twitched to grab at everything in reach: the edges of his sweater, the fabric of the seats, his glasses.

Jyn had barely sat down for a moment when she jumped back up again and hurried to the window. The landscape blurred past, city falling away to country hills as the train raced towards Scotland. “I wish we would get there already,” Jyn complained.

“We only just left London!” Kay scoffed.

Jyn shrugged. “I want to see Hogwarts. I barely remember what it looks like.”

At this, Cassian sat up straighter, as did Bodhi, who had been slouching into the corner until now. Even Kay looked up with a curious glint in his eye as Jyn said this.

“You’ve seen Hogwarts before?” Cassian asked. “How?”

“Oh, my father is a professor there.” Jyn waved her hand, as if this was nothing. “We lived in Hogsmeade when I was little.”

Cassian and Kay exchanged wide eyed stares. With a huff, Kay closed his book. “It looks as if I won’t be getting any reading done, with how much you talk.”

Jyn rolled her eyes. They were bright green, Cassian noticed. He’d never seen eyes shine that bright before. “There isn’t anything to read yet. We haven’t gotten our assignments.”

“Isn’t anything to read,” Kay muttered. “Have you not, perhaps, heard of a library before? They have books there. To read.”

Jyn turned to Kay, gearing up for a fight. Cassian rushed to ask, “What does your father teach?” before either threw more retorts and started a real argument.

“Transfiguration. He’s one of the best in the country,” Jyn beamed.

“Transfiguration looks hard,” Bodhi piped up, leaning closer to the group. “I didn’t understand half of the textbook…”

“I’ll help you study, Bodhi,” Jyn promised. She grinned at the boy and his lips twitched in response, relaxing slightly.

A knock on the door sounded through the compartment. “Anything from the trolley, dears?” A kindly old lady pushing a cart laden with sweets poked her head in to ask. Both Jyn and Kay jumped up to race to the cart. Bodhi and Cassian stayed behind, exchanging quiet glances with each other. Cassian longed to try the sweets – would he find the mysterious chocolate frogs his father had spoken about there? Would the candy move or light up or fizz in his mouth? What other delicious concoctions had the wizarding world thought of? – but he forced himself to remember the short pile of gold buried within his vault at Gringotts, left to him by his father. The money covered his school expenses – or, at least, it would for a few years – but Cassian couldn’t afford to spend money freely. Perhaps Bodhi was in a similar situation.

Jyn and Kay returned a minute later. Pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs and licorice wands filled their arms. Bodhi’s eyes grew wide at the selection. Jyn tossed a chocolate frog at him, which he caught easily.

“Jyn, I can’t take your candy—“ He tried to protest, only to be cut off.

“Bodhi, if you were raised in the muggle world, then you’ve never had a chocolate frog, and that mean you’re missing out. Eat it,” she commanded. Cassian watching in fascination as he opened the package. The chocolate inside bounced around, just like a real frog. (It _wasn’t_ a real frog, right? Cassian might not want one, then.) Jyn must have caught the awed look on his face because she asked, “Are you a muggleborn, too?”

Cassian flashed back to his conversation with Professor Kenobi – that some people in the wizarding world, people like Kay who was proud to announce his parents were wizards and Jyn, whose father taught at Hogwarts, might not like that he was raised in the muggle world. “My father was a wizard, but my muggle aunt and uncle took me in after my parents died, so I wasn’t raised in the wizarding world.”

A moment of awkward silence settled over the group, and Cassian fought to keep the blush from creeping up his throat. Jyn and Kay both stared at him, Kay slightly calculating and Jyn with understanding eyes. “My mother died when I was little,” she murmured after a moment. She threw him a chocolate frog. “Will this make up for bringing it up?”

Cassian grinned and nodded. Jyn demanded to see what cards they had gotten – Cassian found Emperor Palpatine within his and Bodhi had Headmaster Kenobi – and giggled when they seemed surprised the faces would leave. Their conversation wandered, rarely faltering, so the compartment was almost never silent. Jyn described Quidditch with reverence. Kay rolled his eyes – “Honestly, the chances of being _killed_ during a Quidditch match!” – but Bodhi and Cassian listened intently. Kay returned to his book a few hours later, finally finishing his six pages and more besides, and Cassian watched the sun set as the train sped through the Scottish countryside.

He would be at Hogwarts soon, and he would be arriving with friends. The novelty of either wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

* * *

 

 

_The Sorting_

_“Andor, Cassian!”_

Cassian barely remembered the journey from the train to the Great Hall. He had been too busy staring slack-jawed at the towering castle to notice the cold breeze across the lake, too fascinated by the ghosts strolling past the crowd of first-years to listen to Kay’s nervous babbling, too busy recalling his father’s words and placing them into their proper setting for the first time to care about Bodhi’s incessant fidgeting beside him.

But Professor Mothma’s voice called him back to the present and a tidal wave of nerves flowed over Cassian.

He was _first?_ Cassian couldn’t stand to go _first._ The first and the last were the most memorable, and Cassian longed to blend into the hallways of Hogwarts, not glow neon from his first moment in the school. Still, Professor Mothma smiled reassuringly and Cassian stepped forward, hesitant. He settled himself on the stool as the professor dropped the aged hat over his eyes. With his eyes covered in darkness, the sudden voice caused Cassian to jump.

“Andor?” The voice in Cassian’s ear sounded almost sleepy as he contemplated Cassian’s name, nothing like the booming voice that had explained the four Houses – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin – to him. “That’s strange. I didn’t expect to see another Andor for many years. And you’re not typical of their brood, no – not brought up on the Andor traditionalism and fraternity. How strange.

“Let’s see, then,” the disembodied voice mused, louder now. “You’ve been brave, no doubt. A natural leader. But you’re _loyal_ , too. Helga would appreciate that sense of dedication.” A small _hmm_ buzzed through Cassian’s ears. “Yes, you’ll do well in — _HUFFLEPUFF!”_

 

+

+

+

 

_“Erso, Jyn!”_

Upon entering the Great Hall, Jyn’s first task was to find her father. All the other students gaped around at the night sky on the ceiling and the four giant tables already crowded with older students, but Jyn looked straight to the head table. Professor Kenobi sat in the middle, and the heads of houses sat on either side of him. Deputy Headmistress, head of Hufflepuff house and professor of Herbology Professor Mothma, sat directly to his right; Professor Imwe, head of Gryffindor house and divination professor, came next. Krennic – _Professor Krennic_ , Jyn corrected herself. _Papa said you must call him Professor Krennic_ – who taught Potions and headed Slytherin sat on Kenobi’s left. Finally, her father, head of Ravenclaw and professor of transfiguration, sat on Krennic’s other side.

Papa appeared to be searching for her, too, because his eyes found hers immediately, even though she was inches shorter than the students around her. Her father gave her a smile,

and some of Jyn’s nerves slipped away.

_No matter where the Hat puts you, I’m always proud of you._

_I love you, Stardust._

_I love you, too, Papa._

Jyn thought, too, of her mother. The last time Jyn saw her mother’s eyes, they were riddled with fear, but that didn’t stop Lyra Erso from following her husband. She remained determined until her very last.

Bravery. Nerve. Courage. Daring.

The Sorting Hat’s song ascribed these traits to Gryffindor House, but Jyn assigned them instead to her mother. And if those traits were enough for her mama – if Gryffindor house had produced the woman her mother had been – then Jyn wanted to be there too.

Jyn watched as Cassian Andor was sorted away into Hufflepuff, a jolt of – of _something_ in her chest. There was nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, she supposed, but it would not be the house for her. (Jyn had never questioned if she was loyal before, and her lonely life had been too simple for her to know if she was a hard worker or not, but she had never once been described at patient in her life.) Still, this meant Cassian would settle down among the Hufflepuffs, and Bodhi, courteous and gentle Bodhi who had followed her willingly through Platform 9 ¾ and the Hogwarts Express, may join Cassian there as well. Kay Tuesso, with his books and witty remarks and love of statistical analysis, would fall into her father’s house without much consideration.

Would she be alone as she entered Gryffindor House? Would the friends she’d made on the journey here be sent to other houses, to make other friends, to rarely see Jyn again? She didn’t have time to consider this before her name was called and she stepped forward to sit upon the stool.

“Erso,” crooned the Hat. “Yes, the professor’s daughter. You’ve been a topic of conversation in the headmaster’s office recently. Some debate over where you’ll go. We’ll settle that once and for all now.

“Daring, as your father said, and courageous. A sharp wit, certainly, but much more like Salazar’s than Rowena’s. Ready to lead, too. Slytherin would take you far, no doubt.”

_No._ Jyn thought of flashes of green over her mother’s body, across Krennic’s robes, and how the dark green of Slytherin looked far too similar. Krennic’s assurances that her cunning nature would surely land her among the snakes echoed in her brain, and she shuddered. _Not Slytherin._

“No? You’d do well among them, no doubt. Slytherin would turn that cunning bravery into greatness. But if you’re sure … I suppose you’ll go to – _GRYFFINDOR!”_

 

+

+

+

 

_“Tuesso, Kay!”_

Kay watched Cassian shuffle over to the Hufflepuff table with a pang of regret. (He did not feel the same as Jyn Erso was sorted with the lions.) He had enjoyed the boy’s company on the train. Perhaps they could still be friends, even if they ended up in different houses, since Kay had calculated an eighty-nine percent chance of being sorted into Ravenclaw himself.

Ignoring the tingles of anxiety in his fingers – anxiety was completely _illogical_ and only complicated situations, he reminded himself; there was no need to focus on it now – Kay marched towards the stool.

_Get on with it_ , Kay thought as the Hat slipped down over his eyes.

“Impatient, eh?” A voice chuckled. “I believe that rules out Hufflepuff for you, sir. But you knew that already. Intelligent, I see, and curious, too. Yes, you’ll fit in well in — _RAVENCLAW!”_

 

+

+

+

 

_“Rook, Bodhi!”_

The crowd of first years had thinned by the time Bodhi’s name was called. Cassian had been sorted into the house of the loyal, Jyn into the house of the brave, and Kay into the house of the intelligent. Bodhi thought over the traits the old Sorting Hat had described for each house – loyal, intelligent, brave, cunning – and decided on _loyal_ as the description that fit him best (though, truly, Bodhi’s main trait right now was fear). He had been shaking in his boots all day, from facing his stepfather at breakfast to attempting to find Platform 9 ¾ and even while on the train.

Bodhi shot a glance towards Jyn, already settled into the boisterous crowd at the Gryffindor table, a faint sense of longing stirring inside him. Jyn hadn’t been afraid of anything today. She’d spoken to him first at King’s Cross, sent her father away without a backwards glance, introduced herself to Cassian and Kay and carried most of their conversation. There was no doubt in his mind Jyn would thrive in Gryffindor house; if only he were made of the same stuff to be able to join her.

Timid, Bodhi inched his way towards the stool, sensing the many eyes of the room upon him, their gaze miniscule lasers into his skull. Even as the Hat fell over his eyes, blocking the other students from view, Bodhi still felt their stares.

“Worried about them, eh?” Bodhi jumped as the voice muttered into his ear. Could the whole room hear these thoughts; would they know what the Hat gathered from Bodhi’s head? But the Hat had been silent while the other students were sorted, Bodhi reasoned, so likely it would be silent now. He calmed slightly, realizing this.

“Very logical,” the Hat praised. “But I sense Ravenclaw is not your calling. There are enough riddles in your life as it is.”

Bodhi jumped again. Was the Hat be referring to the riddle of his father? For years, Bodhi had never considered the man; he’s left his mother before he was born and had never come searching in the years since. But when Professor Mothma had come to his house to deliver Bodhi’s letter and invite him into a whole new world, he wondered about his faceless, nameless father once again. Given Bodhi’s tanned skin tone and deep brown eyes, no one ever questioned that Bodhi and his younger sisters shared a different father – both Rebecca and Alice had his stepfather’s glowing blonde hair and his mother’s bright blue eyes. But had his father given him more than just looks? Had he inherited his magical powers from him, as well?

“No need to worry about it now,” the Hat said. “Much more important things to consider. Though that stepfather of yours has forced you to be brave, most certainly. A chance to show that bravery wouldn’t go amiss for you, dear boy.”

Confusion fluttered across Bodhi’s mind. This Hat – this all-seeing hat wading through his mind – it wanted to put him in _Gryffindor_? The House Jyn had cheerfully skipped off to? The House spoke of daring, chivalrous knights of old, not nervous wrecks like Bodhi who stumbled over many of his sentences.

_Hufflepuff_ , he told the Hat. _I’m loyal. I can work hard. Send me to Hufflepuff._

“No, no,” the Hat disagreed. “Hufflepuff would be wrong for you. You understand now the value of hard work, that kindness and tolerance will bring you far in life. If I sent you to Hufflepuff, Bodhi Rook, you would leave Hogwarts seven years from now a grown man, but with the mind of a boy. What you need is a place to help you grow, where someday your natural talents can foster and develop, until even you can see them. Yes, I believe you’ll go to –“

_No, no, no,_ Bodhi rushed to think, before the Hat said the final word. _I should go to Hufflepuff, please!_

_“ – GRYFFINDOR!”_

 


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cassian learns about his family, Jyn finds a way to remember hers, and Bodhi discovers family might not always be blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are going to get so sick of me saying this, but this story would not be half as logical without the help of [SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn/pseuds/SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn) ([WeAreSuchStuff1](http://wearesuchstuff1.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr)! She's an amazing editor, a great friend and also a great writer! Go check out her stories :)
> 
> Also, **Important Warning:** While Bodhi's family is not quite the Dursleys, they're not nice people either. There's no explicit mention of (physical) child abuse but know that if reading about a neglectful home is not for you, you may not like Bodhi's family.   
>  (But also know that I love Bodhi Rook so I won't be leaving him in that situation for long!)

 

“So you’re the bastard Andor, then.”

The harsh words startled Cassian’s attention away from his breakfast. “I’m sorry?” He asked the red headed boy who stood over the Hufflepuff table. After a moment of confusion, Cassian recalled the boy’s face from the day before, during the sorting. Hux. He’d been sorted into Slytherin.

“You heard me,” he sneered. “You’re the bastard half-blood born after your father got blasted off the tapestry. I’m surprised you had the nerve to come to Hogwarts.”

Before Cassian could reply, a professor – Cassian’s eyes went wide at the sheer size of the man – stepped behind the boy. “What seems to be the matter here?”

The Slytherin jumped and smoothed his face into a picture of innocence before turning to the professor (though even he started at the professor’s broad shoulders and tall stature).

“Nothing, sir,” Hux assured him. “Just introducing myself to an old family friend.”

The professor – Cassian still wasn’t sure of his name or his post – snorted. “Get to your table. Professor Krennic will be handing out time tables soon.”

Losing some of his confidence at the authoritative tone, Hux nodded and scurried off towards the Slytherin table.

“And you,” the professor turned to Cassian, who shrank back in his seat. “Don’t let the Slytherins push you around.” With that, he headed to the staff table, taking a seat beside the blind divination professor.

Cassian’s eyes dropped to his porridge, hearing Hux sneer “the bastard Andor” over and over inside his head. He must be the type of wizard Professor Kenobi had warned him about – the type that saw distinctions between wizards’ lineage, who thought less of muggles like his mother.

“Doesn’t sound like how you talk to an old family friend to me,” snorted a girl to Cassian’s left. The girl who spoke couldn’t be much older than Cassian, perhaps a second year. She stared over her shoulder at the Slytherin table. “Professor Malbus is right. Don’t listen to any of their pureblood garbage. Just outscore him in a few practical exams and he should shut up. Although,” her gaze turned back to Cassian and she studied him briefly. “I’ve never heard of an Andor half-blood.”

Cassian’s mind reeled. Since when was it significant that his last name was “Andor”?

“I don’t—I don’t understand what you mean,” Cassian admitted. “About being an Andor. Why is that special?”

“You dad must have really abandoned all his family’s ideals if he never explained what it means to be an Andor,” a long-haired boy sitting across the table said. He turned towards Cassian as he spoke, and Cassian stifled a gasp. Thin white scars ran along the boy’s face, from his temple down to his chin.

Cassian forced himself to stare at the boy’s eyes – not his scars – as he said, “My father died when I was little. My muggle aunt and uncle raised me.”

Awkward silence descended over the conversation for a few seconds as the boy and girl exchanged shocked glances.

“I’m sorry,” the girl muttered, “Didn’t mean to bring that up on your first day. Though that explains why you don’t know…”

“Sounds like you just volunteered to explain, Shara,” the boy said as he turned back to his breakfast, his hair falling into his eyes and effectively hiding the scars.

“Thanks, Chewie.” The girl – Shara – snorted before releasing a long sigh. “Don’t ask me to explain pureblood social hierarchies – I’m a muggleborn myself – but Andor is a name that pops up enough. One of the elite twenty-eight wizarding families.” Cassian continued to look at her blankly, comprehending none of her words. She sighed again. “Listen, I really am the wrong person to explain all this. Do you know about the debate over blood purity?” Sarcasm colored the phrase.

Cassian nodded.

“Purebloods have a list of ‘the best of the best.’” She made air quotes around the words.

“Wizarding nobility, if you will. Andor is one of those families. So is Hux.” She inclined her head in the direction the boy had gone. “There are books in the library of wizarding lineage if you’re really interested.”

“You got away from the point, Shara.” The boy called Chewie – surely that wasn’t his _real_ name? – jumped back into the conversation. He pointed his spoon at Cassian as he spoke. “Listen to Professor Malbus. Blood purity means nothing, so don’t let the snakes get under your skin.”

Once again, Cassian nodded, attempting to absorb this much advice at once. He remembered

Kay saying both his parents were wizards; if Shara was the wrong person to explain what it meant to be an Andor, perhaps Kay would be the correct one.

“What’s your first name, by the way?” Shara asked.

“Cassian.”

“Well, Cassian,” Shara smiled at him. “I’m Shara Bey, and this is Chewie.”

“Rolf Chewbacca,” he corrected.

“Except no one calls him that, so don’t be the one who starts it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cassian answered automatically; Shara’s commanding tone reminded him of the stern headmaster at his previous school, even though her smile couldn’t have been more opposite.

Chewie groaned. “No, don’t do that either. She’ll be impossible.”

“Oh, I like you, Cassian Andor,” Shara chuckled.

“If I could have your attention, please!” Professor Mothma, Cassian’s head of house, called to the Hufflepuff table. “I have your time tables for the term, starting with the first years.”

“Hey,” Shara stopped him as he stood from the table. “Cassian. We won’t be in any of your classes, but we’ll be around, in the common room and at meals and such. Don’t hesitate to find us if you need us, okay?"

“Okay.” The corners of Cassian’s mouth lifted, and Shara laughed again – full and loud and shining.

“So you do smile. Good.” She waved him away. “Don’t leave Professor Mothma waiting. She seems soft, but you do not want to get on her bad side.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cassian said again. Shara and Chewie’s answering chuckles increased the smile on Cassian’s face. It felt nice to make others laugh again.

 

+

+

+

 

To Cassian’s excitement, his first class of the day was double Potions with the Ravenclaws. He wouldn’t have to wait to ask Kay to explain about his family; he could ask right now.

Kay stood a head taller than the rest of the first years heading to the dungeons, so Cassian picked him out of the crowd easily.

“Hey, Kay!” Cassian called down the corridor, securing his bag over his shoulder and rushing to catch up. “Wait up!”

“Good morning, Cassian,” Kay greeted. “I was worried we wouldn’t see each other once we were sorted into different Houses.”

Warmth spread through Cassian’s chest at the words. He’d worried, too, as he fell asleep in the four poster bed of his dormitory the previous night, but hadn’t been sure Kay would give it a second thought.

“Me too. But we can see each other outside class.”

“That’s true,” Kay agreed. “Though hopefully Jyn Erso won’t be joining us.”

Cassian snorted lightly. Though he insisted otherwise, Cassian guessed Kay had enjoyed the banter Jyn provided on the train. Besides, Cassian looked forward to seeing the Gryffindors -- Jyn as well as Bodhi -- again.

“I’ve got Transfiguration with the Gryffindors tomorrow,” Cassian remembered, “so I’ll see her and Bodhi then.”

“Any classes with the Slytherins?”

Cassian shook his head, but took the mention of Slytherin house to bring up his odd confrontation at breakfast. By the time he finished explaining, Kay’s gaze focused in on the floor and a light blush colored his cheeks. Taken aback by such an emotional response – or, at least, such an emotional response for Kay – Cassian hesitated before asking, “So what do you make of it?”

“I thought your name sounded familiar on the train,” Kay muttered. “But I didn’t think…”

Cassian bristled. “What? Didn’t think I was the _bastard Andor_?”

Kay’s blush deepened. “No, no. Just…” Kay paused before whispering, “I remember when your parents died.”

Two Ravenclaw girls ahead of them sent quizzical looks over their shoulders, and Cassian longed to have this conversation anywhere but here, in a hallway of full of students eager for gossip about their new classmates. Hux’s display in the Great Hall that morning already drew attention to Cassian; he didn’t need any more.

“And?” Cassian demanded. “What about my parents’ deaths?”

“My father… he said the less muggles and blood traitors in the world, the better.”

Cassian bristled at the description, and white hot anger rose in his chest. Before he could respond, however, a group of Slytherins – fifth or sixth years by the look of them – wandered down the hallway, laughing and joking together.

“Maybe we should do this later,” Kay mumbled, and Cassian nodded, thankful that even his socially awkward friend – _could_ Kay become his friend, if he was raised thinking blood supremacy was correct? – recognized Cassian’s discomfort.

The pair joined the queue outside the Potions classroom, silence heavy between them. Students chattered away on either side of them, but Cassian couldn’t find the energy to introduce himself to anyone new. Rejection, both from Hux and Kay, stung, and Cassian wasn’t willing to risk more right now.

Professor Krennic banged open his door, his robes swishing behind him, and waved the first years inside. “No lollygagging, please. We haven’t the time. Choose a table and set up your cauldrons.”

Without speaking, Kay and Cassian headed to a table in the middle of the room. Two more Hufflepuffs, a boy named Eskro and a girl named Maia, joined them.

“Right then,” said Professor Krennic as he took his spot at the front of the room. “Let’s start with roll call.” The professor looked down at his list. Cassian’s heart sank as Professor Krennic smirked at the page. Apparently, his place in the spotlight wasn’t done for the day. “Cassian Andor?”

“Present, sir,” Cassian answered, fighting to keep his voice strong.

“Ah, the little Andor,” the potions professor smiled, though not at all like Professor Kenobi.

Where Professor Kenobi’s smile had brought an answering grin to Cassian’s face, Professor Krennic’s smile made Cassian want to run from the sheer spitefulness. “I knew your father. Hopefully you didn’t inherit his rebellious nature. Though we won’t have to worry about Gryffindor house corrupting you like it did him.”

The professor moved on down the list, calling for a Walex Blissex but Cassian felt his classmates’ eyes lingering on him. He didn’t dare look up, preferring to hide a scarlet blush by focusing on the scratches on the worn tabletop.

His father had been in Gryffindor? Cassian hadn’t stopped to consider which of the four houses he’d been placed into, though, now that Cassian considered the few facts he knew about his father – loving his mother though no one approved, fighting against a regime he disagreed with, dying for what he believed in – how could he have been sorted anywhere else? And now Cassian, who had longed for this castle that his father spoke of for so many years, wasn’t deemed to have the same bravery and courage as his father.

The blows from Hux and Kay paled in comparison the feeling of inadequacy that drowned Cassian as Professor Krennic completed his attendance list. He barely noticed the other students – Kay among them – that warranted Krennic’s extra commentary on their family lineage. His head was still clouded by the time Krennic instructed the class to pull out their books and begin brewing a simple cure for boils.

Kay set about confidently, arranging dried nettles, ginger root and other required ingredients out in a logical order surrounding his cauldron. The two other Hufflepuffs hurried to copy him. Cassian examined his pack of ingredients and looked back to his own potions textbook, trying his best to keep his eyes off Kay’s work. However, by the time Cassian removed his cauldron from the fire and began adding porcupine quills, his potion was still a seafoam green, where Kay’s was the desired cobalt color.

“Hmm,” Professor Krennic said from behind Cassian, causing him to jump and drop extra quills into the potion. An angry hiss and a puff of yellow steam rose from his cauldron. “Mr. Andor, how long did you leave your potion on the heat for? Seems like a bit too long.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassian muttered.

“Five points from Hufflepuff, Andor. Do try to do better next time.”

And try he did; every lesson in the dungeons he tuned out the friendly chatter – or derisive comments, in Kay’s case – of the students around him to focus all his energy on forgetfulness and herbicide potions, though his finished creations often ended up a few shades away from the desired color or consistency. His notes on different ingredients were diligent and his essays on the various types of cauldrons well researched.

None of his efforts changed Professor Krennic’s opinion on him at all. The potions master critiqued and raised his eyebrows at each of Cassian’s concoctions while having nothing but high praise for Kay’s.

With each lesson in the dungeons, Cassian came to understand why his father had been sorted into Gryffindor and why had been relegated to Hufflepuff. When Krennic would snap, or chastise his mistakes, Cassian wanted to melt into his cauldron, wanted to skip ever potions lesson. Often only Kay – who had forcefully ignored the topic of blood purity and family lineage since the first day of class – or Maia walking alongside him to the dungeons stopped Cassian from slipping behind one of the tapestries to a secret passageway and avoiding the dungeons altogether.

Outside potions lessons, Cassian enjoyed life at Hogwarts immensely. Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Malbus, the same professor who had pulled Hux away from him the first day at breakfast, and Charms with Professor Draven were his favorite classes, but, without a doubt, Cassian’s favorite activity was nothing academic, but instead searching for the castle’s hidden secrets.

The first passageway he’d found was completely accidental. Armitage Hux, surrounded by a band of other Slytherins, had been wandering down the charms corridor during the second week in October. Not wanting a fight or a confrontation of any kind, Cassian slipped behind a tapestry, hoping to stay hidden until the group of boys passed. Instead, he found a door that opened with a simple _alohomora_ , revealing a dark passageway full of cobwebs and dust. The passageway wound left and right, sometimes changing levels with rickety staircases, so that by the time Cassian emerged from it, he was no longer near Professor Draven’s classroom, but instead on the seventh floor, not too far from Gryffindor tower.

“I don’t normally find Hufflepuffs wandering so far into the castle,” a voice behind Cassian said, causing the boy to jump. He turned around to see Professor Erso walking away from the entrance to Gryffindor tower. The professor eyed the painting Cassian had just stepped away from. “Doing a little exploring, Mr. Andor?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Cassian stammered. Professor Erso was a kind professor, nothing like Professor Krennic, but he did have a strict policy for following rules in his class (the irony of which being that his daughter was most likely to disobey those rules). The passageway had been interesting, certainly, and an excellent alternative to a confrontation with the Slytherins, but Cassian wasn’t sure it was worth an evening in detention. “I’ll return to my common room.”

Professor Erso smiled at him. “Nonsense. I always encourage curiosity in students, and the castle does have some charming secrets to discover.” He waved to the witch inside the painting, a thoughtful look on his face. “This comes out in the charms corridor, correct?”

Cassian nodded. “I discovered it by accident.”

“The best way to make discoveries, I always say,” the professor nodded, before sending an evaluating look towards Cassian. “A shame you weren’t sorted into my house, Mr. Andor. It would have done well for that curious mind of yours.” He straightened up. “It is getting close to curfew, however. Others may not be as forgiving as I am for finding a first-year wandering about.

Now,” Professor Erso leaned closer to Cassian and lowered his voice. The witch in the painting leaned forward to hear too. “If you were to go to the sixth floor, you’ll find a knight with black armor standing back in an alcove. Tap his arm with your wand and tell him _aberto_ and I believe you’ll find a shortcut back to your common room.”

“ _Aberto_ ,” Cassian repeated.

“That’s right,” Professor Erso nodded. “If you navigate that one successfully, Mr. Andor, perhaps I’ll show you another one.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassian said and hurried down the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder to see the Professor saying goodbye to the witch before continuing down the hallway, back towards his office.

During the next transfiguration lesson, Cassian reported successfully navigating the passageway back to his common room. Professor Erso gave him a warm smile and asked, “Now, if you were leaving Defense Against the Dark Arts but needed to borrow a book from the library before your next class, what would be the fastest route between the two, Mr. Andor?”

Cassian paused before suggesting which corridors and series of staircases would lead you between the two.

“That’s certainly a route,” Professor Erso agreed, “But I suggest you investigate the tapestry of the late queen of Naboo on the third floor before being certain of the fastest route.”

That night, as he and Kay left the library, Cassian wandered towards the tapestry, pulling a disgruntled Kay with him.

“I don’t see the purpose of this,” Kay grumbled as Cassian muttered, “ _Alohomora_ ,” to the door behind the tapestry.

“You’re the Ravenclaw,” Cassian mumbled, frustrated that the door hadn’t opened, “Shouldn’t you be the curious one?”

Kay stayed quiet for a minute, watching Cassian struggle to remember other charms that might work to unlock the door before sighing. “Have you tried _liberare_?” he asked in a disinterested voice.

Cassian admitted that, no, he hadn’t, and grinned when it worked. “Thanks, Kay,” he said, “You’re the best.”

Kay blushed at that, as Cassian had learned was frequent whenever he brought up their friendship. Kay, it seemed, didn’t discuss emotions or other “illogical” topics; he’d simply assumed his spot by Cassian’s side and, from then on, became his friend, seeming quite bewildered when Cassian had felt the need to clarify such a thing.

“Of course we’re friends,” he had said, and Cassian had smiled. The issue of Cassian’s father being an infamous blood traitor was shoved aside. It didn’t seem to matter to Kay, Cassian had realized, so he wouldn’t let it stand in the way of their friendship.

Despite his initial misgivings, Kay continued to join Cassian in exploring the castle, since trading information on the different passages became a bit of a game between the Cassian and the Transfiguration professor. Cassian enjoyed reporting to Professor Erso at the end of lessons to discuss the secrets of the castle. (Jyn, who Cassian had barely seen Jyn outside of class since the Hogwarts Express, glowed green with envy every time her father granted him special attention.)

Mostly, Cassian followed the professor’s clues to discover entrances and exits and attempted to solve the riddles of which spells were required to slip inside, but he occasionally discovered passages of his own and eagerly reported them back to the transfiguration professor. Christmas break was fast approaching when Cassian discovered a new passage that Professor Erso had not heard of.

“Well, well,” he chuckled as Cassian’s face lit up. “It appears you hardly need my direction after all! Excellent work.”

That evening, as Cassian exited the Great Hall with Kay reciting the twelve uses of dragon’s blood at his side, he caught sight of Professor Erso scanning over his shoulder before walking into what Cassian thought was the solid wall of the corridor. Not for the first time, Cassian considered why exactly Professor Erso wanted to disappear into the castle. For Cassian, disappearing meant less eyes on him, an easier way to observe Hogwarts without being observed himself, but what did Professor Erso gain from taking the passageways? Every student saw him daily, read his work, had seen his extraordinary magic, perhaps even knew his daughter.

What, Cassian wondered, did Galen Erso want to hide?

 

* * *

 

 

Jyn’s first class after Christmas break – which had been spent lazily lounging around the Gryffindor common room with Bodhi, exchanging chocolate frog cards and playing games of wizard’s chess – was Transfiguration with her father. Unfortunately, since she’d spent too many years locked away in Papa’s library, reading transfiguration theory beyond even N.E.W.T. levels (or had she simply inherited Galen Erso’s knack for the subject?), transfiguration _bored_ her. Jyn breezed through Transfiguration, spending her time assisting Bodhi rather than concentrating on her own spell work.

“ _Colovaria_ ,” she said, lazily, enjoying the way the mouse in front of her changed from white to blue to red.

“How,” Bodhi hissed from his seat beside her, “are you doing that?” He repeated the spell, but his mouse’s fur only changed from a snow white to an ashy gray.

“You’re moving your wand wrong,” Jyn told him and demonstrated the correct movement. “And you’re hesitating as you say the spell. You’ve got to be confident.”

“She makes an excellent point, Mr. Rook,” Papa said as he came up behind the pair. “The magic listens to more than just your words. Picture the results inside your mind as you say the spell, _know_ it will happen when you wave your wand and your magic will respond to that confidence.”

Bodhi nodded and turned back to his mouse. “ _Colovaria_ ,” he repeated with much more force and the mouse’s fur morphed into yellow. Bodhi’s eyes widened but he smiled, happily surprised by the outcome.

“Very well done, Mr. Rook! Five points to Gryffindor,” Professor Erso said, patting Bodhi on the back.

“Papa,” Jyn whined, “I did the spell at the beginning of class and you didn’t give me any points.”

“That’s because you didn’t learn anything,” he explained, raising his eyebrows at her. “Mr. Rook overcoming his struggles is much more deserving of house points than you repeating what you’ve already learned, Jyn.”

Jyn’s shoulders slumped with her father’s words.

“However, speaking of learning things,” Papa crouched down so he was at Jyn’s level and lowered his voice. “Could you stay after class to speak to me, Stardust?”

She stiffened, knowing exactly what her father wanted to discuss. “I can’t be late for Herbology, Papa. Professor Mothma is very strict about tardiness,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on her mouse and away from her father.

“I’ll explain to Professor Mothma why you’re late,” he replied, standing. “And I’m sure Mr. Rook will help you to remember to stay at the end of class. Right?”

“Y-yes, sir!” Bodhi, who had been attempting to ignore their conversation, stuttered. Keeping his word, as the other Gryffindors rose from their seats to head to the greenhouses, Bodhi nudged Jyn in the direction of her father. She sent a scowl his direction, but after so many months of being friends, Bodhi had become unfortunately impervious to her glares. Jyn lingered in front of her father’s desk as the students disappeared from the classroom in groups of twos and threes.

“What did you want, Father?” Jyn asked as the last student left the room.

“Oh, no,” Galen warned, “Don’t resort to ‘Father’ with me now. And I think we both know what I want to talk about.”

Jyn pursed her lips and stayed silent. If they both knew what it was, then her father could say it first.

Galen sighed at his daughter’s stubbornness. “I spoke to Professor Yoda yesterday,” he began,

“And he’s most disappointed in your grades thus far in History of Magic.”

“It’s a dull subject,” Jyn said, doing her best to keep all emotion from her face.

Galen, however, allowed his eyes to soft, and he motioned his daughter towards his side of the desk, placing his hands on her shoulders when she did so.

“You’re forgetting I know you, Stardust,” Galen whispered. “Avoiding History of Magic essays has nothing to do with the dullness of goblin revolutions and the birthplace of Osric the Oddball, does it?”

Jyn shook her head, avoiding her father’s gaze. “No, Papa.”

Galen reached a hand to her face, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone and forcing her to look at him. “Does it remind you of your mother, Stardust?”

Jyn clenched her jaw at his words. Tears threatened to escape her eyes and her throat tightened with emotion. It didn’t matter that every lesson with Professor Yoda reminded her of the stories Lyra used to tell, that Professor Yoda’s lectures often morphed from his strangely structured English to her mama’s loving voice that had once tucked her into bed with the same stories. She was a Gryffindor, like her mother before her, and she was determined to be strong.

“It’s alright if you miss her, Jyn,” Papa assured her. “I miss her as well.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jyn steeled herself again, tried to keep her voice level, like her mother’s had been before she went to meet Krennic. “It doesn’t matter if it reminds me of Mama.”

Galen stroked a hand over her twin braids for a moment before asking, “If it doesn’t matter, Stardust, then why are you avoiding it?” When Jyn didn’t answer, he continued. “Your mother loved history, Jyn. It was never my favorite subject, and,” he chuckled wistfully, “perhaps it’s not action based enough to be yours, but it’s a lovely way to remember her.”

He stepped back from Jyn for a moment, reaching into one of his drawers. He pulled out a thick book that Jyn would recognize anywhere. _England’s Magical History_ by Lyra Erso. Her mother had been writing it when she discovered she was pregnant with Jyn; its rough draft had been Jyn’s first bedtime stories when she was an infant. This was not any copy, either, but Lyra’s personal one that her father had protected when they moved to Eadu after Mama’s death. Jyn remembered the notes that littered the margins, the highlights and folded pages made by her father’s frequent rereading of Lyra’s work.

Where Jyn had her mother’s kyber crystal, her father had this book as a physical reminder of his wife.

“Here,” Papa offered it to her. “It’s not the required textbook, but perhaps it’ll make you more interested in learning the material.”

“I can’t take that, Papa. That’s—that’s your piece of Mama.”

Papa gave her a sad smile before kneeling to her height again. “No, Stardust, that would be you.” He pressed the book into her hand. “Besides,” he cracked a smile and pulled on one of her braids, “Your mother would never forgive me if I allowed you to fail her favorite subject.”

Jyn’s lips twitched into a small smile in response. “I’ll do my work for Professor Yoda, Papa.”

“Thank you, Jyn,” Galen stood and handed her a note to take to Professor Mothma. “Now, off to herbology, and tell Professor Mothma that I kept you.”

Jyn nodded and hurried outside to the greenhouses, carefully storing the book inside her bag. She found the other first years gathered inside Greenhouse One. Bodhi had saved a seat for her.

“You’re missing a great lesson,” Bodhi said as she dropped her bag beside him. Around her, the first years were having perhaps too much fun casting _Incendio_ charms at the creeping tendrils of Devil’s Snare on the desks in front of them. “Though,” Bodhi cast a worried glance at her, “I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you started practicing _Incendio_.”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “How many times do I need to apologize for setting your robes on fire, Bodhi? It was an accident.” And it had been, really. Armitage Hux, a member of Slytherin house Jyn would prefer never to have to interact with, had been needling her all morning, so when Professor Draven instructed the class to begin practicing the charm, she simply responded with too much enthusiasm. (Professor Draven had not been impressed.)

“What did your father want to talk to you about?”

“Nothing,” Jyn muttered and then grinned wickedly as she watched the Devil’s Snare shrivel away from her fire. Bodhi sent her a knowing look, so she sighed and muttered, “I’ll tell you later.”

Bodhi, true to form, remembered her words and asked about her father again when they had returned to Gryffindor Tower for the evening. Jyn hesitated for a moment. Part of her didn’t want to share the book with others, wanted to keep her memory of her mother as _hers_ , but Bodhi was different. Jyn had never had any siblings, but Bodhi might be the closest thing she’d ever get to a brother, even if she had only known him for less than a year. He’d confided in her the difficulties he had with his family – how his stepfather didn’t like how different he looked, or how his mother never resisted the obvious favoritism given to his two airheaded half-sisters – and Jyn had told him that if his family didn’t appreciate him the way they should, then he was more than welcome to join hers. She’d even gone as far as to inform Papa of her decision and drag a blushing and stammering Bodhi to weekly teas in her father’s office.

He may never meet her mama, but if Bodhi was going to be part of her family, then Jyn decided he needed to learn about her.

“Papa gave me this,” she explained, pulling the book out of her bag and handing it to him. “My mother wrote it.”

Bodhi readjusted his glasses as he examined the book. “If your mother was a historian, why do you hate History of Magic so much?” Bodhi asked, but his eyes widened as he figured the answer for himself. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah,” Jyn said, plopping onto one of the couches facing the fire. “ _Oh_.”

Jyn stared into the fire as Bodhi flipped through the pages. Bodhi had been so open his her despite his nerves, Jyn reminded herself; no matter how exposed someone else seeing the personal remarks of Lyra Erso made her feel, she owed Bodhi this much.

“Oi, Erso’s daughter!” One of the fifth years called from where a study group had commandeered a nearby table. “Come explain Vanishing Spells to us!”

“I have a name,” Jyn growled, though she got up from the couch anyway.

After teasing the fifth years about turning to a measly first year for assistance, she was more than happy to try her hand at the more difficult spells they were practicing for their O.W.L.s and stayed with them long after Bodhi returned her book and headed to the boy’s dormitories. She called it quits about eleven o’clock; her transfiguration skills may be above her grade level, but her sleeping habits weren’t.

The school year flew by. Jyn kept her word to Papa by forcing herself to complete her work for History of Magic, sailed through Transfiguration, continued to make Professor Draven roll his eyes at her overenthusiastic and unconventional approach to Charms, and endured Krennic’s doting remarks to her and negative remarks to an overanxious Bodhi. She moaned over Gryffindor’s loss to Slytherin in the Quidditch cup final and dove into discussion about how she and Bodhi would have played better, had they been on the team. As the weather grew warmer, she and Bodhi took to venturing out to the lake instead of the library to study. Bodhi reasoned it was because the sun helped them work better, but Jyn simply preferred not getting shushed for speaking louder than a whisper and being able to practice spells without punishment.

Time passed far too quickly and soon final exams were approaching. A wave of stress hit the first years as they struggled to cram knowledge of the planets and doxies and the Werewolf Code of Conduct into their brains. Jyn excelled in Professor Malbus’s practical Defense exam, producing the best smokescreen spell among all the first years (Profess Malbus had chuckled and reminded her not to go around the hallways using that knowledge), while Bodhi’s idea to use _Lumos Solem_ rather than _Incendio_ to ward off Devil’s Snare earned him extra points on the Herbology final.

Though Jyn had never quite discovered the reason why – she strongly suspected Krennic was to blame – her father had moved back to Hogsmeade when Jyn started school. It was not the same house Jyn had lived in with both her parents, but a house farther apart from the town. So, while Jyn begged for another excuse to ride the Hogwarts Express, both her father and Professor Krennic deemed such a journey unnecessary, since she’d be required to be apparated back to Hogsmeade immediately afterwards.

Jyn, therefore, was forced to say her goodbye to Bodhi on the Hogsmeade platform, rather than at King’s Cross. Bodhi had several more friends scattered among the four houses, so he would not be _lonely_ on the ride back to London, but too many students took Bodhi’s blood status and shy tendencies as an excuse to use him as a verbal punching bag, and Jyn never quite trusted anyone else to watch over him the way she did.

Bodhi shrugged her concerns off. “If I’m going to be a Gryffindor, Jyn, I need to learn to fight my own battles at some point, right?” he said, offering her a shaky smile.

In a strange flare of emotion, Jyn flung her arms around Bodhi’s neck. He hesitated for a moment before hugging her back. Jyn was so sparse with her emotions and even more so with physical touch, it was no wonder Bodhi was confused.

“I’ll write,” Jyn promised, still holding Bodhi close. “Maybe you can come stay with me this summer.”

“Yeah,” Bodhi agreed, quiet. “Maybe.”

Jyn pulled back then to give Bodhi a smile. “Don’t let the muggles get you down, Rook.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble without me, Erso,” he smiled back.

“Me? Trouble? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bodhi laughed but glanced back as the train’s horn blared. “I better go.”

Jyn watched as he walked onto the train and was immediately greeted by Ruescott Melshi, a second-year Gryffindor. If only she was joining them...

With a sigh, Jyn turned and headed back towards Hogwarts, towards where where her father was clearing a last few things out of his office. Her thoughts wandered to ideas of what their new house might look like – Jyn had yet to see it – so she didn’t hear a student rushing down onto the platform until they had barreled into her.

“Oof!” the boy cried as both he and Jyn fell backwards. Jyn groaned, rubbing where her shoulder hit the harsh stone beneath her. She barely took notice of the boy until he said, “Oh, Jyn!”

It was Cassian Andor, whom Jyn had met on her way to Hogwarts. Once he’d been sorted into Hufflepuff, Jyn had barely seen him. They’d shared double Transfiguration twice a week and sometimes he and Kay would be in the library at the same time as she and Bodhi, but other than some quick waves over the first few weeks of school, their contact had dwindled down to nothing.

“Cassian,” she nodded.

“Sorry about that,” he said and offered her a hand up. He still wore his Hufflepuff robes – Jyn had changed back to muggle clothes, knowing the break in decorum would bother Krennic – which he hurried to wipe the dust from. “I was just running late to the train.” He gave her a puzzled look. “Shouldn’t you be heading there, too?”

“No, Papa bought a new house in Hogsmeade, so I can walk to and from school.”

Cassian looked truly interested (a very Hufflepuff trait, Jyn though) but the train’s horn sounded again. “I’ve got to go,” he said, picking back up his trunk. “Have a good summer, Jyn.”

“You too, Cassian,” Jyn said. _How strange_ , she thought as she walked back to the castle, _to begin and end my first year by meeting Cassian Andor._

 

* * *

 

 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Bodhi groaned at the sound, unable to tell if it was real or if part of his brain was still lost in a dream…

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Definitely real, he decided, and shoved himself up. He reached for his glasses, being careful of the broken band being held together with tape. (His little sisters had accidentally knocked him over chasing each other around the house a few days after he’d returned from Hogwarts, and his parents hadn’t offered to get them fixed.)

Once he could see, Bodhi noticed a tawny owl – one he had become well acquainted with in the three weeks since school ended – sitting on his windowsill. The owl’s name was Beetle and he belonged to Professor Erso, though Bodhi couldn’t imagine he got to use the owl much, with how often Jyn was sending him letters. Like clockwork, every three days, Beetle would appear on Bodhi’s windowsill with Jyn’s letter tied to his leg. The owl would settle in on Bodhi’s desk (Bodhi had begun keeping a fresh bowl of water there for the bird to enjoy in his downtime) until he completed his reply to Jyn, which the owl would accept eagerly and swoop out the window, back towards Hogsmeade and Jyn.

“Morning, Beetle,” Bodhi yawned as he opened his window. The owl chirped happily in response and stuck out his leg. Bodhi unwrapped the letter and read:

 

> _Dear Bodhi,_
> 
> _I am_ _bored_.
> 
> _Papa is always working (he’s working much harder than he has in other summers) and Krennic is always over. They spend hours in Papa’s office, pouring over old stuffy textbooks and plans. Krennic always yells if I spend too long watching them. However bad you think he is at school, make it ten times worse. That’s how bad he is here._
> 
> _Bodhi, I’m even getting bored of my broomstick. Krennic – in the only smart move he’s made this summer – bought me the new Comet 290 as a present. Its acceleration is decent (Just you wait until you try it! You’re going to love it) but it doesn’t control vibration the way Cleansweeps do…_
> 
> _Do you see what’s happened to me? I’ve started memorizing_ Which Broomstick _for fun. For_ _fun_ _, Bodhi. Please, please, please I need you to come visit. Besides, I know you don’t like staying with your family (don’t bother lying about it, either, because you’ve already told me the truth) and we’d have so much fun together._
> 
> _I can already hear your excuses, though, so I’ve decided to take action of my own. Since Papa already loves you and hates to see me all by myself (or he think I’ll be less likely to break underage wizarding laws with you keeping an eye on me, one of the two), he thinks it’s a wonderful idea for you to come stay with us for the rest of the summer. In fact, I’ve had him write a letter to your parents asking for their permission._
> 
> _Now, he says Mama taught him to use muggle post, but that was years ago and I didn’t see the letter before he sent it, so I’m slightly worried he may have messed it up somehow. I hurried to send Beetle and he’ll likely get there before the letter to your mum, so be on the lookout! I hope they say yes._
> 
> _See you soon,_
> 
> _Jyn_

At first, Bodhi laughed and shook his head at the letter (Jyn had bemoaned her lonely situation to him all summer) but as he reached the end, he panicked slightly. Jyn’s father had written to his mother? Now _that_ was a sure-fire way to get him in trouble.

Bodhi rushed out of his room – remembering to shut the door tight to prevent the owl resting on his desk from exploring the rest of the house – and down the stairs. To his dismay, Rick, his stepfather, sat at the kitchen table, a pile of mail in front of him. Perhaps Professor Erso’s letter hadn’t arrived today…

His stepfather looked up as Bodhi entered the kitchen, giving him half a nod before returning to the mail. “Your mother needs help with cooking,” he grunted.

“Yes, sir,” Bodhi answered, and joined his mother at the stove. “Morning, Mum.”

“Good morning. Could you get the eggs?” she asked as Bodhi’s little sisters ran into the room, giggling and whispering together. Alice, who was seven, idolized nine-year-old Rebecca and copied everything she did. Rebecca not-so-secretly reveled in the attention. Today, both girls had their hair styled in twin braids, and Bodhi felt a sudden pang of longing for Jyn. He thought of the letter her father had written, extending the invitation. He’d come downstairs to find the letter and keep it away from his parents – any mention of the magical world or Bodhi’s life at school sent his stepfather into a rage – but how Bodhi wished he could accept Jyn’s invitation and spend the rest of the summer with her.

He stirred the scrambled eggs, ignoring the way Rick doted over the two girls in favor of picturing life at Jyn’s home. Professor Erso preparing breakfast in the morning – with magic, of course, not by hand as Bodhi did now – and testing Jyn’s new Cleansweep and wandering the streets of Hogsmeade. He and Jyn would be the only second years to have visited the village if only…

“Bodhi? What is this?”

His mother’s words were gentle and unobtrusive, but Bodhi jumped at them anyway. She traditionally followed her husband’s lead and only spoke to Bodhi if there were chores to be done, but now, to Bodhi’s horror, he saw her holding up a letter. The matching envelope, once sealed with the red wax Bodhi associated with Hogwarts, lay torn open near his stepfather’s elbow.

“Are you giving out our address to those freaks at your school, boy?” he snapped.

“N-no, sir,” Bodhi stammered, pushing his glasses back up his face.

“Ooohh, Bodhi’s in trouble!” Rebecca sang under her breath and Alice snickered along.

“Then why does this,” he glanced back at the letter, “ _Erso_ know where we live?”

“Professor Erso—he, um, he works for Hogwarts—“

“Don’t say the name!”

Bodhi paled. “S-sorry, sir. He’s, well, he’s a professor at my school, so he must have access to student records.”

Rick snorted. “Surprised their lot know how to send letters via the post office. Don’t think I haven’t seen that owl coming and going from your room.”

Bodhi swallowed, thinking of Beetle, who would still be snuggled on his desk, waiting for Bodhi’s response to Jyn.

“He offered to let you spend the rest of the summer with them. He says you’re friends with his daughter, Bodhi?” His mother asked quietly, not looking up from the letter.

“Her name is Jyn,” he explained. “She’s in my grade at school.”

His stepfather shrugged. “That’s a few months less of having him here, and a trip we don’t have to make to London in September. I say we let him go, Lori.”

His mother glanced at Bodhi, just for a moment. Were those tears in his mother’s eyes? No, he decided, it couldn’t be. Ever since his little sisters had been born she’d never showed more than remedial affection for her first born, even when he’d left for Hogwarts the previous year.

She nodded then, as Bodhi guessed she would. She never disagreed with her husband.

“They say they’ll pick you up on Wednesday,” Rick told him. His next words were filled with disgust. “Asked that you reply _the normal way_.”

Bodhi fought back at smile as the conversation turned away from him. He was going to spend the summer with Jyn! Away from his stepfather’s glares and his mother’s avoidant eyes; no more giggling sisters or summer homework assignments kept hidden from the rest of the family. He forced himself to finish breakfast with his family, but he paid little attention to the conversation around him, mentally drafting his response to Jyn instead.

 

+

+

+

 

The hours on Wednesday passed too slowly for Bodhi’s liking. Six o’clock, Jyn had assured him in her last letter. She and her father would be there at six o’clock. And that he needed to make sure the fireplace was clear – whatever that meant.

Bodhi stood at his front windows, peering past the curtains and onto the street, desperately scanning the street in hopes of seeing Jyn and Professor Erso approaching. He’d never heard Jyn mention her family owning a car, so perhaps they would be arriving via broomsticks, which he would decidedly not be disappointed by. Flying lessons had been Bodhi’s favorite last school year, so the chance to spend hours traveling on a broomstick sounded ideal to him.

The Ersos, however, did not arrive via broomsticks, or even from the street at all.

Rebecca and Alice, who had been happily watching television in the living room, screamed, startling Bodhi away from the window and causing his parents to come running. When they reached the room, it was to find Rebecca and Alice hiding behind the couch while a nonchalant Jyn Erso brushed soot off her pants.

At the sight of Bodhi, Jyn sighed. “Oh, good, we did get the right house. I was beginning to worry this would be awfully difficult to explain.”

Before Bodhi could answer, green flames shot up from the fireplace – Bodhi and his family all took a step back – and Professor Erso stepped out.

“Good evening, Mr. Rook,” Professor Erso smiled at him, just as friendly as ever. He turned to the adults, extending his hand. “You must be Bodhi’s parents. I’m Galen Erso, Bodhi’s transfiguration professor.”

His stepfather’s face reddened at the word “transfiguration” but he stayed silent, stiffly shaking Professor Erso’s hand. Bodhi’s mother gave a small “Hello” to the professor before slinking back behind her husband.

“And these must be your sisters, Bodhi.” Professor Erso waved to the girls, who also slunk behind their father.

“Rebecca and Alice,” Bodhi said. None of the muggles in the room responded – Rick seemed too distracted by the strange clothes that Professor Erso wore, his mother’s eyes flickered between Jyn and Bodhi, and the girls hadn’t recovered from the shock of someone appearing in their fireplace.

“Are you ready to leave, Bodhi?” Jyn asked as the silence stretched on too long. When Bodhi nodded, she pulled on the sleeve of her father’s robes, insisting, “Come on, Papa, let’s go."

Professor Erso nodded, summoning Bodhi’s trunks to him. Rebecca and Alice squealed in fright, and Rick shoved them behind him, an outraged look on his face. “Let Bodhi say goodbye to his family, Jyn, and then we’ll go.”

Bodhi waved to his family, expecting little more than a terse nod from any of them. To his surprise, however, his mother stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Stay safe,” she whispered, and Bodhi wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry at this unexpected display of affection. “Have a good year at school, dear. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, mum,” he murmured back, worried his voice would crack if he spoke much louder.

She stepped back then, retreating behind her husband once again, and, like that, the moment was over. Bodhi swallowed the thick emotion in his throat and turned to the Ersos. Professor Erso explained how to use Floo powder and asked Jyn to go first to demonstrate. “Erso Cottage!” she shouted before disappearing in a cloud of green smoke.

“You next, Mr. Rook,” Professor Erso said, nudging him forward.

Bodhi copied Jyn’s actions and was suddenly sucked backwards. He struggled to remember Professor Erso’s tips – _Keep your eyes shut and elbows tucked in_ – but kept getting lost in waves of nausea caused by the swirls of green light surrounding him. Cold air whipped past him and he once again longed for a broomstick to travel on.

Finally, the pressure on Bodhi’s chest lifted and he fell onto a stone floor.

“Better luck on your landing next time, Bodhi,” Jyn teased as she helped him up. “But welcome to my house!”

Bodhi was still dusting soot off his clothes when Professor Erso arrived – on his feet, much to Bodhi’s dismay.

“You survived your first trip with Floo powder, then! Good to see,” he said and clasped Bodhi on the shoulder.

“He fell when he came out of the fireplace,” Jyn giggled and Bodhi shot her a glare. Couldn’t he keep some of his dignity in place?

“Happens to the best of us. You’ll get used to the feeling,” Jyn’s father assured him. “Ah, did you damage your glasses when you fell, Mr. Rook?”

Bodhi shuffled his feet, unwilling to admit they had been broken for weeks (how had Professor Erso not noticed the tape on them?). Breaking them when he fell seemed like a much easier explanation, however. “I must have, sir.”

Professor Erso smiled at him gently. “I can fix them for you, Bodhi. And,” he continued as Bodhi handed him his glasses, “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ outside school. It’s much too formal. _Oculus repario_ ,” he muttered, handing Bodhi back his now intact glasses.

“Thank you, sir—er, Professor Erso!”

The professor chuckled quietly. “That’ll work, I suppose.” He turned to his daughter, who had been anxiously bouncing on the balls of her feet during the whole exchange. “Now you two run along. I’ve got some work to finish, but I’ll call you in for dinner later.”

“Yes, Papa!” Jyn called as she grabbed Bodhi’s hand and yanked him out the door. “Wait until you see what we’ve got to explore!”

Jyn seemed to have a massive tour prepared for Bodhi. The house itself, while not small, was still cozy. The main floor had a warm kitchen, the living room which Bodhi had flooed into, Professor Erso’s study and a mudroom leading outside. All the rooms on the second floor – three bedrooms and a bathroom – extended off a short hallway, which ended with a window seat piled high with books and blankets.

The Erso’s house was settled between two hills on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Jyn and Bodhi took to exploring the sets of caves and steep pathways both on foot and on broomsticks. Some days they would wander the streets of Hogsmeade, poking their head into Zonko’s to get some laughs or spending the sickles Professor Erso gave them on mugs of butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, feeling very grown up. Jyn laughed at Bodhi’s wide eyed reaction to the post office and they both ogled the new line of Nimbuses at the Quidditch shop. Bodhi was surprised by how many shopkeepers knew Jyn by name and were eager to learn her friend’s. He felt, for the first time in his life, like he belonged somewhere – in the magical community around Hogsmeade, at the dinner table discussing class work with Professor Erso, or brushing his teeth alongside Jyn before heading to bed.

Bodhi had been at the Erso’s for a week when Jyn showed him her most prized possession.

“I’m not sure if Papa’s figured out I’ve taken it yet,” she whispered, pulling a suitcase out from underneath her bed. “So be quiet about it.”

Inside was a silky, silver cloak that shimmered in the light as Jyn picked it up, but Bodhi couldn’t figure out what was special about it until Jyn threw it over her head and disappeared before Bodhi’s eyes.

“What?” He exclaimed, reaching forward to grab the cloak. “How does that work?”

“It’s an invisibility cloak,” Jyn bragged. “Papa’s prized possession. I’ve never seen another one like it.”

“Won’t he mind that you’ve stolen it?” Bodhi asked, glancing nervously at the door.

“I don’t think he’s used it in years,” Jyn said. “Besides, it’s a tradition to pass it down in the family, so it was going to be mine someday.”

Jyn returned the cloak to the suitcase she kept it in, explaining she only pulled it out for “extreme circumstances.”

Apparently sneaking around her father’s office, attempting to find where he had hidden Jyn’s recently purchased supply of dung bombs counted as “extreme circumstances” in her mind, because that’s where Bodhi found himself when Professor Krennic stopped by the cottage.  

Both Jyn and Bodhi froze when they heard Professor Erso greet him at the door.

“They’re going to come in here!” Jyn hissed at Bodhi, but before they could scurry out of the room, the men walked in.

“And where’s Jyn today?” Krennic was asking.

“Likely exploring with Bodhi. They’re rarely in the house except for meals,” Galen said, pulling some papers from his desk.

“For the best,” Krennic nodded, examining the papers Professor Erso handed him. “Jyn’s rather … curious and I don’t want either of the children getting their hands on the plans.”

Bodhi and Jyn exchanged wide eyed glances and scooted closer together, making sure the cloak was covering all parts of their bodies.

“Krennic, I don’t have anything new to show you,” Galen sighed. “There’s only so much I can do without another shipment of Kyber crystals to continue the research.”

Jyn stiffened at this and pulled her necklace out from underneath her shirt, gripping it tight.

Bodhi always assumed the research Professor Erso did was for Hogwarts, but kyber crystals were nowhere on the Hogwarts curriculum. When Jyn had first showed Bodhi her mother’s necklace, they had pulled several books from the library to satisfy their curiosity about the stone. Before the time of the Empire, kyber crystals were used as a wand core by the Jedi, the followers of the Force. The crystals were regarded as the strongest of the wand cores, many times stronger than Bodhi’s unicorn hair core, or even Professor Erso’s core made of a Thunderbird’s tail feather. When the Empire came to power, all Jedi were faced with two options: surrender their kyber core wand and accept the new government or face death. Rumors said many Jedi had not been given the option to surrender their wand and had been killed on sight but the Empire simply pointed towards people like Professor Kenobi, a former Jedi himself who remained headmaster at Hogwarts, to dispel such rumors.

The question remained: what sort of research was Professor Erso doing with kyber crystals?

“If we had stayed in Eadu, instead of moving here as you insisted, my research would be continuing at a much better pace,” Professor Erso insisted.

“We both know Jyn is too curious for her own good, Galen. The farther we keep her from the details of this project, the safer she remains.” Krennic’s voice turned challenging with the next words. “You remember what happened to Lyra when she got in the way of the research.”

Both Jyn and Professor Erso straightened at Krennic’s words. For a moment, Bodhi worried Jyn would jump and attack Krennic; he gripped her arm, _hard_ , to keep her under the cloak.

“Don’t think I’ll ever forget, Krennic,” Galen said, low, and the men stared at each other for a moment.

Krennic broke eye contact first, reaching into the pocket of his flowing white robes and pulling out a small box. “Your next shipment, Galen. Do try to hurry this research along. The Emperor is getting impatient, and results are the best way to keep little Jyn safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I'm having a little too much fun writing this AU, because I condensed my hours on the _Harry Potter_ Wiki into [this note about wand lore](https://rxbxlcaptain.tumblr.com/post/160373970993/wand-lore) on Tumblr... And, trust me, expect more like that to come.


	4. Year 2 / Year 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologizes on how behind I am in publishing this chapter! Life just got away from me for about a week, but now I'm back on track. The next chapter is already started so it shouldn't be nearly as long as a wait. 
> 
> Once again, a million kudos to [SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn/pseuds/SuchStuffAsDreamsAreMadeOn) for being a lovely beta and even lovelier person to talk to! This story would not be where it is without you <3

 

**Year 2**

 

“Are you all packed, Bodhi?” Professor Erso called up the stairs. It was September 1st, the beginning of a new school year and, though Bodhi never would have expected it when he first came to the Erso’s, Bodhi couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Y-yes, sir,” Bodhi said as he pulled the trunks down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Professor Erso glanced up at the loud  _ bang _ the trunk made, a confused expression on his face. “I could have levitated that down the stairs for you, instead of you lugging it down.”

Bodhi nodded and shrugged, hoping Professor Erso would accept it as Bodhi being independent  – after all, Professor Erso raised Jyn, who was possibly the most independent person Bodhi knew  – rather than anything else. In truth, however, ever since eavesdropping on Professor Krennic a few weeks previous, Bodhi couldn’t help feeling a deep sense of unease around Jyn’s father. The feeling was ridiculous, of course. Nowhere in that conversation had Professor Erso expressed any ill-will for his daughter or Bodhi  – that had been left to Krennic  – but Krennic’s final threat played over and over in Bodhi’s mind, anyway. 

Luckily, Jyn came bounding down the stairs and distracted Professor Erso. She, unlike Bodhi, had left her trunk upstairs for her father to bring down. Professor Erso gave Jyn a small smile and teased her about how spoiled she was becoming, but he didn’t hesitate to head upstairs and grab her trunks. 

“You,” Jyn hissed as she sat down at the breakfast table next to Bodhi, “need to act more natural around my father. He  _ can’t _ learn we were in his office that day.”

Bodhi muttered, “I know that!”

“Then stop acting like you’ve done something wrong!” Jyn, whether in a natural movement or a demonstration on how to act normal, reached forward to butter a crumpet. Bodhi stared at her, astonished. 

“You know,” he said, speaking quickly before Professor Erso returned from upstairs. “It was you Professor Krennic was threatening. How can you stay so calm about this?”

Jyn paused for a moment, a dark look passing over her face. She ran her knife over the biscuit harshly, bits of it crumbling onto her plate.

“Because,” she answered after a moment, “I’ve been doing it for years.” She lstared at Bodhi, her eyes more serious than any twelve-year-old’s ever should be. “Krennic killed my mother, right in front of my eyes. Then he locked me up until I went to Hogwarts. Threatening me to manipulate my father isn’t a new idea for me, Bodhi, but I don’t want you mixed up in it, either.”

All Bodhi could do to respond was nod, because Professor Erso came down the stairs then, levitating Jyn’s trunk behind him. 

“Stormy didn’t want to follow,” he said, oblivious to the distress on Bodhi’s face. “So you’ll need to gather him into his cage yourself, Stardust.”

“Of course, Papa,” Jyn smiled sweetly at him. Once again, Bodhi marveled at the way Jyn’s features changed. Anger and fierce determination melted into loving innocence in a second when her father spoke to her. Bodhi wasn’t sure he would ever manage those kind of acting skills. 

Professor Erso joined them at the table, and Jyn nudged Bodhi, giving a significant look to his empty plate. Bodhi attempted to copy Jyn’s casual movements, but his hand shook as he reached for the eggs, spilling some onto the table. 

“Are you nervous about the new school year, Mr. Rook?” Professor Erso asked with concern. With a wave of his wand, the table was clean and Bodhi reached for another serving of eggs.

“I suppose,” Bodhi responded, forcing himself to meet Professor Erso’s eyes. It wasn’t a lie, after all. The summer had been relaxing and he loved spending time with Jyn, but the prospect of returning to school  – returning to the dungeons for potions lessons and practical lessons with Professor Malbus in Defense Against the Dark Arts  – did make his stomach turn with nerves. 

“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Rook,” Professor Erso assured him. “I saw your marks at the end of last term. You did quite well first year.”

“We’ll just whip up a potion that gives you more self confidence, huh, Bodhi?” Jyn teased, kicking him under the table. 

“Does that exist?” Bodhi wondered with wide eyes. 

Professor Erso chuckled. “Yes, it does, but it’s nothing you should try. It’s only temporary and it’s after effects, well…” He waved his fork in the air while trying to find the right words. “Well, let’s just say they’re very unpleasant. It would be much better to simply be you, Mr. Rook.”

“I still don’t see why we can’t take the Hogwarts Express, Papa,” Jyn said. “You let me ride it last year when I could have apparated with you to school.”

“You didn’t live down the road from the school a year ago,” Professor Erso reminded her. “It seems a little wasteful to travel all the way to London just so you can return to the place you left, Stardust.”

Jyn huffed. “I don’t want to be the only students who didn’t ride the Hogwarts Express, Papa. We’ll be left out.”

“Luckily for you, you two won’t be the only students who didn’t take the Hogwarts Express,” Professor Erso told them. “Professor Organa’s daughter is starting Hogwarts this year, and when we spoke a few days ago, he told me she’ll be coming to Hogwarts directly with him. You remember Leia, don’t you, Jyn? You’ve met a few times over the years.”

Based on the way Jyn’s face lit up, Bodhi guessed she did remember. 

“I’d forgotten Leia  was starting this year!” She exclaimed before turning to Bodhi. “She’ll be a Gryffindor for sure. Just you wait until you meet her, Bodhi. You’ll love her.” 

Professor Erso chuckled. “Her father doesn’t want to believe that she’ll be a Gryffindor  – he’s still holding out for her to be in Hufflepuff, like he and his wife  – but, from what I know of the girl, I feel her sorting is inevitable.” He glanced down at his watch. “The other students won’t be arriving until the evening, but I need to report this morning. You two are free to come to castle whenever you desire. As long as it’s before the Sorting Ceremony!” Professor Erso finished quickly when Jyn began a sarcastic remark. 

“We’ll be there, Professor Erso,” Bodhi promised, making the professor smile. 

“This is why I enjoy having you around, Mr. Rook,” he smiled. “I can trust you to keep my daughter’s crazy schemes in line.” Both he and Bodhi ignored Jyn’s shout of protest. “There is one  thing I’d like to discuss with you two before I leave.” 

Jyn and Bodhi both sat up straighter at his serious tone. Bodhi glanced nervously at Jyn, thinking of their earlier conversation. Did Professor Erso know they had been in the room? Was he going to warn them about being careful while in Krennic’s classes? Even Jyn looked slightly nervous at what her father’s next words would be. 

Professor Erso cleared his throat and turned to Bodhi before beginning. “Now, Mr. Rook, I’m not sure you know, but the Ersos have a wonderful family heirloom that’s been passed down for many generations.”

_ The cloak! _ Bodhi thought, panicked.  _ He  _ does _ know we were in the room! _

“My father gave it to me, just as his father gave it to him,” Professor Erso was still explaining, but, for reasons Bodhi couldn’t understand, the serious look was fading from his eyes to be replaced by the teasing twinkle he often gave Jyn. “Now, I went to find this heirloom in my desk, where it’s been for many years, in order to pass it onto my daughter, but it seems to have gone missing.” He leaned back in his chair so he could observe the guilty expressions on the children’s faces. “At first I was very concerned, worried that I may have lost this important family artifact, but I have a new hypothesis about what might have happened to it. I thought I might test that hypothesis this morning.”

“How are you going to do that, Papa?” Jyn asked, her expression carefully schooled again.

“Oh,” Professor Erso smiled, “I only eed to ask one question. Mr. Rook, do you know what this object I’m describing might be?”

Jyn kicked him under the table, a clear sign that meant  _ Don’t you dare tell my father what it is _ . Staying silent and allowing Jyn to take the lead here -- Jyn always had a plan to get them out of trouble -- would be much easier, but Bodhi drew a deep breath and sheepishly ventured a guess. “Would it be an invisibility cloak, sir?”

Jyn groaned. “Why would you tell him that, Bodhi?”

“Trust me, Jyn,” Professor Erso laughed. “I knew anyway. I believe it was much more brave of Mr. Rook to confess. Bravery is the main virtue of your house, is it not, Jyn?”

“Yes, Papa,” Jyn muttered. 

Professor Erso got up from the table to stand beside Jyn. “You’re not in trouble, Stardust. I would give you the cloak now regardless.” 

Jyn gave him a skeptical look. “You’re alright with me taking it to Hogwarts?”

“Where do you think I gave it the most use?” He asked as he grabbed his cloak. “Keep it safe, you two, and keep yourselves safe as well.” He kissed Jyn’s forehead and clapped Bodhi on the shoulder before making his way to the door, levitating their trunks behind him. “I’ll see you both at the school.”

Neither Jyn nor Bodhi moved for a minute, until they were sure he was gone.

“So,” Jyn spoke first. “Does he not know we heard him and Krennic talking? 

Bodhi didn’t have an answer. 

 

+

+

+

 

“Jyn!”

Bodhi and Jyn, who had just finished the long trek from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts  – how they longed for the ease of the carriages now  – turned at the shout. Running up from near the lake came who Bodhi could only assume was Leia Organa. Jyn dropped Stormy’s cage  – the cat gave a nasty hiss in response  – and ran down the hill to meet her. Bodhi picked up the cage, holding it away from his body so the angry cat didn’t take a swipe at his robes, and followed. 

Leia threw her arms around Jyn’s neck. “I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!”

“Yeah,” Jyn smiled and pulled back from the hug. “Papa only reminded me this morning that you were starting this year. I would have written otherwise.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind” Leia waved her off. She noticed Bodhi then and stook out her hand. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Leia.”

“Bodhi,” he replied, shaking her hand. 

“He’s my best friend,” Jyn said proudly and Bodhi blushed. 

Leia, however, smirked. “You normally make your best friend carry your things for you, Jyn? Sound much more Slytherin than Gryffindor to me.”

Bodhi understood the first year was teasing, but Jyn bristled. Since the sorting hat had suggested she go to Slytherin  – the House Jyn most hated, thanks to Krennic  – she’d been sensitive about her affinity for the house. Bodhi stepped in before Jyn could start an argument, assuring her, “I only just picked Stormy up.”

“Yeah, besides,” Jyn said, a smile spreading across her face, “You wouldn’t know the Gryffindor house traits, yet, Leia. You haven’t been sorted.”

Leia raised her eyebrows. “Trust me, I can’t get there fast enough. Papa keeps insisting I’ll be in Hufflepuff, but I don’t want to go there.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Hufflepuff!” Bodhi insisted at the same time Jyn said, “I wouldn’t want to go there either.” The best friends exchanged a look  – Bodhi glaring and Jyn sticking out her tongue  – before laughing. 

Leia fit in with them quite well. They laughed and talked and played with Stormy as the sun started the set. Jyn filled Leia’s head full of tales about the fun Gryffindors had  – Bodhi shook his head at how many were more than slightly exaggerated  – and Leia watched with rapt attention. By the time the trio heard the Hogwarts Expressing pulling into the Hogsmeade station and the clip of the carriages coming to the castle, Leia was firmly convinced she wanted to come to Gryffindor with Jyn and Bodhi. 

When they reached the castle, Jyn and Bodhi waved Leia off to where the rest of the first years gathered in the front hall and made their way into the Great Hall. As the rounded the corner into the hall, however, Jyn ran smack into another one of the students. 

“Well,” said a disdainful voice. “I suppose it was too much to hope that not seeing you on the train meant you weren’t returning to Hogwarts this year.” 

Jyn rolled her eyes at the Ravenclaw. “Honestly, Kay, I haven’t done anything to annoy you in months. Give me a break.”

“It turns out you don’t need to be there to annoy me, Jyn Erso.” 

Jyn raised her eyebrows, clearly about to question what he meant, when a voice spoke from behind them. “He means well.”

Jyn and Bodhi turned to see Cassian Andor, tanner than at the end of the last school year and slightly taller, shrugging his shoulders, an easy smile on his face. 

“I hope you two had a good summer, Jyn, Bodhi,” he said. 

“Yeah, you too, Cassian,” Bodhi replied. 

Kay sighed. “I’ll be heading to my table instead of dealing with this small talk, thank you very much.”

“Yeah,” Jyn said with a shrug. “Guess we should go, too. See you later, Cassian.”

Much to Jyn and Bodhi’s delight, Leia Organa was happily sorted into Gryffindor, joining Luke Skywalker, Kes Dameron and a few other newcomers at the table. 

Glancing up and down the Gryffindor table, now filled with the magical feast, a sense of ease filled Bodhi’s chest. Surely, as he was sent to the dungeons to face Krennic for the first time since seeing him in Professor Erso’s office, the panic would return. But, for now, with Jyn and his other friends flanking him and warm food in front of him, Bodhi Rook was content. 

 

+

+

+

 

About a month into the school year came the announcement Bodhi and Jyn had been waiting for: tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team were to be held the following week. 

“What position do you want to try out for?” Jyn asked over breakfast. She and Bodhi sat side by side at the Gryffindor table, a book on Quidditch open between them. Players zoomed across the pages, sometimes covering the paragraphs in an attempt to catch the golden Snitch that alway remained out of reach, no matter what maneuvers the Seekers tried. 

“Seeker,” Bodhi said decisively, his eyes following the patterns the players made.

“You want all that glory for yourself, huh, Rook?” Jyn teased, nudging his arm with hers. 

“No, no, that’s not it,” Bodhi shook his head. “Just… I think I’d be better at that than chasing Quaffles for the entire game, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jyn agreed as she turned the page to the section on Chasers. “That,” she smiled as she pointed to the player aiming to score, “is where I come in.”

The pair had spent a good deal of time that summer practicing their Quidditch moves. Jyn’s father wouldn’t let them practice with a real Snitch – it was as likely to cause chaos by zooming into a crowd of shoppers in the midst of Hogsmeade as it was to stay in the Erso’s yard where either Jyn or Bodhi could catch it – but they would take turns throwing Snitch-sized rocks for the other to race out and catch. 

Bodhi, to his surprise, catch the Snitch twice as often as Jyn did. 

“Do you think they’ll let us both on? Since we’re only second years?” Bodhi worried out loud, glancing towards where the current members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team sat. They were mainly sixth years, though the Keeper and new captain, Jon Vander, was a seventh year. Several of them were purebloods who had grown up with the sport, like Jyn, and Bodhi worried his single year of experience wouldn’t be enough to make the team. 

Jyn shrugged. “I figure they need a few younger players. Vander is graduating this year, and he doesn’t want to leave behind a team that’ll be gone within a year. Depth is important to the roster.”

Bodhi nodded, accepted Jyn’s Quidditch wisdom as fact. She understood the game and the strategy behind it with a depth that would put some professional players to shame. 

After breakfast, Wedge Antilles, another second year Gryffindor, joined Jyn and Bodhi on the way to the pitch. Apparently he, like Jyn, wanted to become a chaser and their conversation veered towards their favorite professional players and whether the Mustafar Fires were better than the Coruscant Senators. Bodhi, instead, ran his hands along his Comet. 

When Bodhi first came to stay with the Ersos, Jyn and Bodhi shared her Comet, taking turns experimenting how high and how fast they could fly while the one on the ground kept track of the time they had spent on the broom. After about a week and one devastating argument that led to Jyn and Bodhi steadfastly not talking to each other during dinner, Professor Erso had suggested a solution: instead of continuing to fight over Jyn’s broom, he offered to take Bodhi into Hogsmeade the next day to purchase one of his own. 

Despite Bodhi’s stuttering protest about the cost, Professor Erso had walked them to town the next day and led Bodhi into the Quidditch shop. The proprietor of the shop easily distracted Jyn with the newest Nimbus model, but Professor Erso had stayed with Bodhi when he wandered over to the Comets, pointing out the same model that Jyn owned. 

“Is that the one you want, Mr. Rook?” Professor Erso had asked, grabbing it off the shelf high above Bodhi’s head. “You can pick out any broom you want.”

“It’s the one Jyn has,” Bodhi muttered so quietly Professor Erso asked him to repeat himself. 

“Excellent idea. It’ll be good for you to match,” he’d smiled at Bodhi and bought the broom. 

Bodhi carried that broom with pride today. The Comet 290 wasn’t the best broom on the market by any means – the Nimbus and the Firebolt outshone the Comet in many different ways – but Bodhi wouldn’t have traded this gift from the Ersos for the entire broom collection of England’s national team. To Bodhi, this broom meant being a part of something. If he performed well enough today, it would mean not only being a part of the Ersos, but being a part of the house Quidditch team. 

“Alright, gather round!” Jon Vander yelled from the center of the pitch. The students trying out hurried to circle him with eager and determined faces. Jyn, a head shorter than those around her, elbowed her way to the front. “I’m going to divide you into three groups and run you through some basic drills.”

Half an hour went by as those trying out circled the pitch to demonstrate their basic flying skills, performed basic passing drills, and raced against each other in short sprints. After Vander dismissed those who lagged behind or couldn’t properly control their brooms, he separated those remaining into different groups based on their preferred position. Even those who had previously been on the team joined the groups because, as the captain explained, no one’s spot on the team was guaranteed. The crowd of those who wanted to become chasers was the largest and, to Bodhi’s surprise, only he and one other Gryffindor were trying out for Seeker. 

“Alright,” Vander nodded. “Chasers first.”

Wedge and Jyn took to the sky with the other potential chasers while Bodhi sat on the sidelines, observing. Jyn flew well, this he knew, but she tended to hog the ball in the air, preferring to keep the Quaffle tucked to her side as she raced towards the goal posts, rather than sharing it with the other Chasers. Even though she scored the majority of the time she faced the Keeper one-on-one in penalty shots, Bodhi worried her selfish tendencies might keep her off the team. 

Vander called for the potential Seekers next, so Bodhi had no time to give Jyn more than a smile as they passed each other. The other boy trying out for Seeker was a sixth year, someone Bodhi hadn’t met before. He seemed to be friendly with the captain, calling him “Dutch” and clapping him on the back as he took to the pitch. Bodhi swallowed hard as he noticed how much taller and more confident the other boy seemed to be and his fingers shook as he kicked off the ground.

Vander brought forth a black box that jiggled in his hands. As he opened it, Bodhi saw the Snitch straining against its bonds, eager to race into the sky. This would be Bodhi’s first time attempting to catch an actual Snitch, but he focused his racing mind on his agility and attention to detail that made finding the Snitch easier. Before Vander opened the box, Bodhi leaned forward on his broom, ready to move at a moment’s notice. 

With a  _ zing! _ the Snitch flew out of its box and darted towards the cloudless sky. Bodhi didn’t allow himself time to think or time to hesitate, he just  _ reacted _ , jerking his Comet to the left, keeping his eyes locked on the golden ball. The sixth year follow him a moment later but, thanks to Bodhi’s quick movements, he was several meters behind by the time Bodhi’s fist closed around the struggling Snitch. 

A cheer went up from the stands – Bodhi recognized the sound of Jyn’s voice without having to check – and even Vander nodded, clearly impressed, was Bodhi returned the Snitch to him. 

“Alright, Rook, you’ve got quick reflexes,” Vander said, while the other potential seeker rolled his eyes, muttering about cheating. “But let’s see how you do spotting the Snitch.”

Two members of the team – both Chasers from the previous year – came forward at Vander’s signal and muttered  _ obscuro _ to cover the potential Seeker’s eyes. 

“No need to panic,” the captain assured the boys, though Bodhi pulled at the blindfold anyway. “We just want to give this Snitch time to get away from you, like it would in a real match.”

A few minutes passed. The Gryffindors on the sidelines continued to chatter, though Bodhi couldn’t tell if they were commenting on where the Snitch had gone or otherwise. Finally, Vander said, “On the count of three, we’ll remove your blindfolds. May the best man find the Snitch.

“One.”

Bodhi remounted his broom. 

“Two.”

His toes itched to kick off from the solid ground beneath his feet. 

“Three.”

The sudden sunlight in his eyes as the blindfold was removed blinded him momentarily, but he shot into the sky anyway, finding his bearings once he was twenty meters or so into the sky. His head swung around as he searched for the Snitch. The crowd grew silent as they focused on the two boys’ search. Bodhi lapped around the pitch, changing heights occasionally in the hopes that he’d find the Snitch faster. Though he’d originally took his own path, after five minutes of searching, the other Gryffindor began to tail Bodhi. 

At first, the pressure of having another player hot on his tail made the hairs on the back of Bodhi’s neck stand on end and his focus begin to drift, but soon he found the tactic more annoying than aggressive. All this did was rely on Bodhi to find the Snitch for both of them and, if the other boy were to catch the Snitch first, prove that his broom were fast. 

_ We’ll see about that _ , Bodhi thought as he angled his broom downwards, moving into a dive. The other Gryffindor followed him. With a smug smile on his face, Bodhi jerked his broom upwards before hitting the ground, sailing towards the sky once again. Bodhi only took a moment to appreciate the way the other Seeker skidded into the ground with his robes tangling around him before he noticed a gold glint towards an empty section of the stands. Pulling his broom around, Bodhi raced after the Snitch. It darted away, changing directions frequently, but Bodhi remained hot on its trail. 

Ten seconds later, the Snitch rested securely in his fist. 

As Bodhi landed near the captain, cheers once again erupted from the Gryffindor stands. Chants of “Rook! Rook! Rook! Rook!” lead by Jyn herself rang out over the stadium. 

“Well,” Vander smiled, “I won’t be announcing final positions until tomorrow morning, but I’m sure you’ll be pleased.” He held out his hand for Bodhi to shake. “Head back to the stands while I finish with the Beaters.”

Bodhi, who felt strangely jittery with pride, ran to where Jyn sat. He pulled her into a hug as he reached her, ignoring her squeak of protest and Wedge’s laugh. He didn’t bother paying attention to the Beater’s tryouts and barely heard Vander’s final words about the team being posted on the Gryffindor notice board the next morning. 

Bodhi forgot to be nervous. In fact, he was so sure of his new position on the team, he forgot to consider the tight competition the potential Gryffindor Chasers were in. Two Chasers from the previous year’s team still remained; even if they weren’t promised a position, it seemed unlikely both Jyn and Wedge would make the team. 

Wedge seemed to realize this, fumbling around as he got dressed that morning and seeming reluctant to head downstairs. He tried to cover it up, babbling about their most recent potions assignment  – Wedge  _ hated _ potions and would never discuss it for fun  – as they headed down the stairs. 

A crowd was gathered around the notice board, but Bodhi held Wedge back. 

“Jyn isn’t downstairs yet,” he explained. “We should wait for her.”

Wedge nodded and they boys retreated to the good seats near the fireplace, which were only not occupied by the upper class students because of the excitement surrounding the Quidditch roster. Five minutes passed before Jyn tiptoed down the stairs. This alone was enough to tell Bodhi how nervous she was. After all, nothing about Jyn was ever subtle or discreet. Her normal way to come down the girl’s staircase in the morning included pounding footsteps and loud laughter, heedless of the other students who glared at her with sleepy eyes. 

She’d barely reached the common room floor when Vander called for her attention. “Erso, Antilles, come talk to me for a minute!” Bodhi and Jyn shared a wide eyed look between them. Vander sighed. “It’s no big deal. Besides, Rook, you should be enjoying that list over there. We’ll just be a minute.”

Reluctantly, Bodhi made his way over to the notice board while Jyn and Wedge met Vander in the opposite corner. Bodhi tried to find a way through the thick crowd surrounding the board, but no one heard his quiet “Excuse me” over their chatter. 

“Hey!” A sixth year Bodhi didn’t recognize called. “Gryffindor’s new seeker wants to see his name on the list! Let him through!”

“Brilliant move, Torius,” another sixth year rolled her eyes, “Way to take the surprise out of it for him.”

The move worked, however. The Gryffindors let out a cheer and quickly made a path for Bodhi to get through, many of them clapping him on the back or high fiving him as he went. When he reached the list, however, Bodhi didn’t look for the Seeker spot  – he officially knew that was his now. Instead, he glanced towards the Chasers. 

The two returning Chasers  – Hera Syndulla and Ezra Bridger  – were listed as the first string players while Kanan Jarrus filled the third spot. 

_ Oh no,  _ Bodhi thought with alarm, looking over his shoulder to where Jyn and Wedge were speaking with Vander, only to see Jyn slamming her way out of the common room. Wedge gave Bodhi half a shrug when they made eye contact, mouthing “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Bodhi ran to the portrait hole, chasing after Jyn’s receding footsteps. 

“Jyn!” He called when he finally spotted her. “Wait up!”

Jyn scowled but slowed her footsteps. After a moment, she slumped against the wall, slowly collapsing to the floor. Bodhi sat next to her without a word. The only way Jyn Erso walked about her feelings was if she wanted to; there was no sense trying to force anything out of her. 

“Vander said he needed someone with more experience,” Jyn sighed after a minute. “Said I was a bit of a ball hog, too.”

Jyn’s head fell to Bodhi’s shoulder and he shuffled closer. Jyn’s physical affections were few and far between, saved for moments when she was particularly heart-broken. 

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, their bubble only occasionally disturbed as other Gryffindors found their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

“Do  _ you _ think I’m a ball hog, Bodhi?”

Bodhi chuckled at Jyn’s question. If it were anyone else, he would have stuttered and likely lied, telling them what they wanted to hear. But this was  _ Jyn _ , the girl who had taken him under her wing and protected him and shared her life with him. Someone who was more of a sister than his biological sisters. So he felt content in answering, “Yeah, Jyn, you really are.”

Thankfully, Jyn laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Then it’s probably true,” she said with a shake of her head. She stood and offered Bodhi a hand up, too. “You know what this means, right, Bodhi?”

“That you’re coming to trial next year with a vengeance and a new Firebolt?” Bodhi ventured a guess as they fell into line with the other students heading to breakfast. 

“Oh, absolutely. Vander told Wedge and I he expected to see us at try-outs next year,” Jyn explained. “But, more importantly, you better catch that Snitch every damn game, Rook. I’m counting on you.”

“Right.” Bodhi rolled his eyes. “No pressure at all.”

“Nah,” Jyn assured him, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Because you know Wedge and I will be on the sidelines, cheering you on anyway. We’re here for you, Bodhi.”

As his second year at Hogwarts flew by with evenings full of grueling Quidditch practice and matches that made him nervous enough to puke up whatever breakfast Jyn had forced into him that morning, it was Jyn’s words that echoed in his head. 

_ We’re here for you, Bodhi. _

As he caught his first Snitch in the match against Hufflepuff in November, Jyn and Wedge  –  along with the rest of Gryffindor house  – screamed in excitement:

_ We’re here for you, Bodhi. _

When Vander yelled at the team after a muddy practice that had everyone forgetting their most basic Quidditch skills: 

_ We’re here for you, Bodhi. _

After catching the Snitch away from Ravenclaw to put Gryffindor in the lead for the first time in years: 

_ We’re here for you, Bodhi. _

Even sulking back to the common room after a horrific defeat by Slytherin in the finals, Jyn and Wedge awaited with open arms and steaming mugs of butterbeer (which Bodhi suspected had been a gift from Professor Erso). 

_ We’re here for you, Bodhi. _

And, for the first time in his life, Bodhi found himself believing it.

  

* * *

 

 

**Year 3**

 

Jyn sat down at the Gryffindor table with a proud smile on her face. Wedge Antilles joined her with a similar look on his. Bodhi, who sat down across the table from them, began eagerly piling scrambled eggs onto his plate. Catching sight of the smiles lighting their faces, he said, “I knew you were going to make it this year. I just knew it.” But he, too, was smiling.

Jyn nodded and giggled, a sound she so rarely made. Exactly a year ago (Jyn specifically marked the date in her calendar) Jyn and Wedge had both been turned down for the Quidditch team. Now, since Hera Syndulla and Ezra Bridger graduated the previous spring, two spots had opened for Chasers. After a few hours of strenuous trials and fierce competition – which Bodhi had been exempt from, since his spot as Seeker was secure – Jyn and Wedge had woken up this morning to learn that the spots were theirs. It was a year later than Jyn originally wanted, but, now, she didn’t care.

She, Jyn Erso, was a member of the Gryffindor House Quidditch team. (Now that goal was complete, Jyn set her sights on becoming captain in a few years.)

“All that extra practice this summer totally paid off!” Wedge said as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. “I’m so glad your dad let me come over to practice, Jyn.”

“It makes the most sense,” she shrugged. After all, Wedge lived in a predominately muggle town – practicing Quidditch there spelled too much trouble – and Bodhi had been spending the summer with her and her father again, anyway. Once a week, Wedge would Floo to her house outside Hogsmeade, carting along his Cleansweep Five, and spend a few hours racing, passing Quaffles and arguing over which broomstick was best. Some weeks, Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker would Floo to join them. With so many friends coming and going, it was one of the best summers of her life.

There was only the exception of what Jyn now referred to as The Incident (Bodhi said she needed to work on her codenames).

The first week of August, Jyn, Bodhi and Wedge were coming in from several hours of exploring the hills around Hogsmeade on broomsticks. They’d been gone since mid morning and were now desperate for some fresh drinks and late lunch. What the kids learned later was that Krennic was visiting – and he and her Papa were not happy with each other.

Blissfully ignorant of the harsh words in the study – if they had only been listening, Jyn thought afterwards, surely they would have heard the voices and avoided the whole situation – the trio had stumbled into the cottage’s kitchen, laughing boisterously and talking loudly.

They hadn’t been inside for thirty seconds when the door to Papa’s study slammed open and Papa stormed out.

“Jyn!” He’d yelled, and a laugh had died on her lips. Papa had  _ never _ yelled at her like this before, with his face flushed bright red and eyes flashing. Jyn wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her father lose his temper like this before. “What are you  _ doing _ ?”

“We-we were just coming in for lunch, Papa…” Jyn didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice, with the meek and stuttering tone. Out of the corner of her eye, Jyn could see Bodhi and Wedge and gone completely still back by the door.

“You cannot come in making that much noise when I’m working, Jyn,” Papa said, but Jyn wasn’t listening anymore. Professor Krennic had stepped out of her father’s study, arms crossed in front of his pristine white robes, and Jyn realized what was going on.

She never understood what kind of hold Orson Krennic had over her father – Papa never talked about when Mama died, never explained why they had been on the run or why Krennic came looking for them in the first place – but she understood the stress he placed on her father’s life. Forcing them into hiding, killing her mother, threatening Jyn, shoving mysterious research on him for years now: Jyn didn’t care how her father had told her to treat Professor Krennic; all she longed to do was hex him until he grew tentacles or erase his memory so he’d never bother Papa again.

Perhaps her father sensed her next words would be viciously hurled, not at him, but at Krennic – Jyn wasn’t exactly known for hiding her emotions well – because he shifted his stance to the right, blocking Krennic from Jyn’s view.

He took a deep breath before he spoke next. “Perhaps it would be best if you headed home, Mr. Antilles.” His voice was calm and, though he addressed Wedge, his eyes did not waver from Jyn. “I’m afraid I’m going to be very busy this afternoon and need the house quiet.”

Wedge muttered hasty goodbyes before dashing for the fireplace, eager to escape the awkward situation.

“Jyn, Bodhi, perhaps you’d better head back outside until I call for you.”

“Papa—“ Jyn began to argue, but her father cut her off again.

“ _ No _ , Jyn,” he said, his voice firm. “Come back later.”

She retreated a few steps, stopping when Krennic was back in her sight. He wore a strange smirk on his face that Jyn longed to punch off. Luckily, Bodhi, always the sensible one, pulled on her sleeve to urge her out the door. Jyn was sure what she would have done otherwise.

Galen had apologized to Jyn and Bodhi for overreacting when they returned for dinner – Jyn longed to ask him what was truly bothering him – and apologized to Wedge the next time he came over. No one told Luke or Leia about the incident and Wedge had allowed it to be swept under the rug, but it still hung in the back of Jyn’s mind. The one stain on an otherwise perfect summer.

And, though she didn’t want it to, the memory of her father’s harsh words weakened her relationship with her father. Now, for instance, Jyn noticed her father entering the Great Hall and heading for the staff’s table. A year ago, Jyn would have run to her father’s waiting arms and gleefully shouted the news that she’d made the Quidditch team, to be swung around in celebration and promised extra biscuits at their next tea (those, too, had quickly fallen by the wayside this year, with either she or Papa finding various excuses as to why they needed to be cancelled). 

Bodhi kicked her under the table to get her attention. “Go tell him,” he said, jerking his head towards where her father sat, speaking with Professor Yoda. “He’ll be proud of you, Jyn.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Jyn promised as she rose from the table. “We’ve got to get to Divination.”

Bodhi groaned in response – Jyn had forced him to take the class, after all – and was moaning to Wedge about how lucky he was to be taking Ancient Runes instead when Jyn left. Papa noticed her as she neared the staff table and smiled, waving her forward.

“Good morning, Stardust,” he greeted, a smile in his voice. “Did I hear rumors that the Gryffindor Quidditch roster was announced today?”

Jyn nodded. “Wedge and I are both going to be Chasers!”

A wide smile spread across Papa’s face. “I’ll be forced to cheer against my own House this year!”

“Papa, you cheered for Gryffindor last year when Bodhi was playing.”

“That I did,” he chuckled. “But it’ll be even more important since you’re playing as well.” He gave her another smile and Jyn felt her chest warm.  _ This  _ was her Papa, the man she knew and loved. She felt it even more keenly when he leaned across the table to say, “I’m very proud of you, Stardust.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Jyn beamed. Behind her, Bodhi called her name. “Bodhi and I have to get to Divination, so I need to go.”

Her father shook his head with a light chuckle. “Why you chose to take Divination rather than Arithmancy, I’ll never understand… But you won’t want to be late for Professor Imwe. Perhaps you can stop by my office later, and we’ll have tea to celebrate? Mr. Rook is welcome to join, of course.”

Jyn assured him she would be there before running to meet Bodhi. As they trekked their way to the North Tower, Jyn considered exactly why she took Divination. Professor Imwe, who claimed being physically blind only made his Inner Eye clearer, was interesting enough, but Jyn didn’t put much stock in the subject itself. Reading tea leaves and determining the future based on the movements of the planets – it all seemed like too much guess work and not enough factual evidence for her.

Jyn would never be able to work as a code breaker for Gringotts, thanks to her lack of study of Arithmancy, but in her mind, she’d gained something much more valuable, because no one found the subject quite as irritating as Orson Krennic. He’d ranted and raved that such a subject continuing in the halls of Hogwarts brought an irreparable stain to the school’s reputation, that Professor Imwe was nothing but a fraud and the faster Headmaster Kenobi was gone from the school, the faster that blasted subject would be as well.

It was then that Jyn decided forcing herself (and, therefore, Bodhi) through Divination would be one of the best decisions she could make at Hogwarts. 

When they were signing up for classes at the end of second year, Bodhi offered her a trade. He would join her in the stuffy Divination classroom if and only if she would join him in Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Organa. Jyn – always one for time outside and hands on magic – agreed willingly.

“Good morning, Miss Erso, Mr. Rook,” Professor Imwe called as Jyn and Bodhi scrambled through the trapdoor into the Divination classroom. The professor had known all his student’s names from the first day of class, which, though confusing at first, seemed entirely natural now. “Running a bit behind, are we?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I needed to speak to my father,” Jyn explained while Bodhi muttered a similar apology.

“Ah, yes, congratulations on your good news, Miss Erso. I sense an excellent season coming for the Gryffindor team,” the professor said, his ever-present smile shining down at her.

“Er—yes, sir,” Jyn replied, a bit dumbfounded.  _ How _ did he always know?

“Take a seat, Miss Erso, and we’ll begin our lesson.”

She sat on the cushion beside Bodhi and eyed the tea cups on the table with disdain. Tasseomancy – which, for all its fancy names, was nothing more than staring at damp tea leaves – caused Jyn to roll her eyes so often Bodhi warned they were likely to fall out of her head.

Professor Imwe surprised her, however, by telling the class, “No need to worry, you will not be searching for hidden meanings within the leaves. Today you’ll be searching through a different form of leftovers. Mr. Namir, would you be so kind as to grab those papers,” he pointed to a neat stack of parchment with his staff, “and pass them out to the class, we will be examining personal histories.”

“Professor,” came a snotty voice from behind Jyn – why Armitage Hux had decided to take Divination, she would never understand – and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Isn’t the point of Divination to see the future? Why, then, are we looking at the past?”

“I believe you’ll find, Mr. Hux, that sometimes the best way to discover the future is to study the trends of the past.” Professor Imwe stood, leaning heavily on his staff. “While many in the magical world do not agree with the methods used in Divination, this is an accepted truth.”

“But, sir?” A Gryffindor girl named Jaldine Gerams asked, a puzzled expression on her face. “If we’re not reading tea leaves, why did you set out tea?”

“You’ll find this is tedious, mundane work ahead of you today. I thought perhaps the drink would energize you for such a task.”

Jyn snorted at the professor’s response. She may dislike Divination, but Professor Imwe’s personality would make this class bearable for the next few years. 

 

+

+

+

 

“You know your job this morning, don’t you, Wedge?”

“For the record,” Wedge groaned, his voice muffled since his head was hidden beneath his pillow. “I find it unfair that we can’t go up the girls’ staircase, but you can get up ours.”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “First of all, it’s almost nine o’clock –“ she ignored his answering “ _ On a Saturday!” _ to continue “—so you really should be awake. Besides, we’re doing, you know,” Jyn checked over her shoulder to make sure Bodhi wasn’t in the room. “We’re doing  _ the thing _ today.”

“We’re celebrating Bodhi’s birthday. In Hogsmeade,” Wedge said in a flat voice, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. “He’s not in the room, Erso, so you can say the words.”

“I just want it to be a surprise,” Jyn sighed. “And it needs to be special.”

“And it will be,” Wedge assured her. He walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders to gently direct her out of the room. “All will be well, Erso. We’ll meet you down at breakfast, like we planned.”

When Jyn realized the first Hogsmeade visit of the year – the first ever for the third years, or at least the ones not lucky enough to live in the village – was only a week after Bodhi’s fourteenth birthday, she’d insisted on planning a surprise for Bodhi. Since the announcement, Jyn and Wedge acted extremely bored with the idea of Hogsmeade.

“Bodhi, we  _ live  _ there during the summer,” Jyn complained to him when he first brought up the visit to the village. “We’ve seen the post office and drank butterbeer and spent hours in Zonko’s.”

“Yeah,” Wedge had agreed with a shrug. “Even I saw a lot of the village visiting you over the summer. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to it.”

Bodhi had fallen silent then, though Jyn was certain he almost brought up the date’s proximity to his birthday.

Her father had almost ruined it a week later, when he was speaking to Jyn and Bodhi after class.

“I see the first Hogsmeade visit has been announced,” he’d said as he packed up the teapots the third years had been transfiguring into tortoises. “You must be excited.”

“Not really,” Jyn shrugged.

Papa sent her puzzled look. “You love the village, Stardust.” He glanced at Bodhi next. “Surely you do as well, Mr. Rook.”

“It won’t be any fun if my friends aren’t going,” Bodhi said. Though he put on a brave front, sadness filled his eyes. It was almost enough to break Jyn’s resolve and tell him about the plan – almost.

Now, as the Gryffindors around her babbled with excitement about today’s trip, Jyn smiled smugly to herself. Bodhi was still in the dark, certain that Jyn and Wedge were staying behind in the castle to finish an essay on Shrinking Solutions for Professor Krennic. (Like Jyn would ever miss a chance to go to Hogsmeade for  _ that _ .)

Bodhi and Wedge met Jyn in the Great Hall for breakfast. She and Wedge chatted normally over their toast and kippers, but Bodhi stayed unusually silent, even when Luke Skywalker sat down next to him and happily discussed the prospects of the Gryffindor Quidditch team that year. As the other students began filing out of the hall to go down to the village, Jyn and Wedge shared a secretive smile.

“I think I’ll head out,” Jyn said, loudly. “Coming, Bodhi?”

“Huh?” Bodhi’s eyes jerked away from the crowd. “Yeah, I’m following you, Jyn.”

They walked into the Entrance Hall. Bodhi turned towards the staircase that could lead them to Gryffindor Tower, but Jyn and Wedge joined the queue of students heading to the village. Bodhi walked several feet before realizing his friends were not still beside him. He turned around then, giving them a puzzled look.

“I thought we were heading back to the common room?”

“And miss a Hogsmeade visit so close to your birthday?” Jyn asked, faking astonishment. “Bodhi, we would never!”

Bodhi looked confused for a moment more before he shook his head, laughing. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Jyn beamed. “Happy birthday, Bodhi!”

“Rook, it’s your birthday?” Calum Gram, a Gryffindor fifth year and one their Beaters, asked from the line. “Happy birthday, Bodhi!”

Many of the Gryffindors in line echoed the sentiments, until Bodhi was blushing from all the attention.

“Come on, Rook,” Jyn said with a smile. “justButterbeer is on me.”

After enjoying butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks – Maz, the bartender, gave Bodhi extra cinnamon on top when Jyn told her it was his birthday –  they headed back out into the cool October weather. Jyn walked between the boys, throwing her arm over their shoulders, as they wandered around the village.

As they were turning back onto the path leading to the castle, Armitage Hux appeared in front of the group, blocking their path.

Everything about the day – the crisp fall air, Bodhi’s bright laughter, the colorful displays in the shop windows – had been perfect so far, Jyn thought with irritation. Why couldn’t it have stayed that way until they returned to the castle? She tried to push past him, but he remained steadfastly in her way.

“Fancy seeing you in the village, Erso,” he said, lips curling into a sinister smile. “Taking your mudblood for a walk?”

Jyn jumped forward at the insult, drawing her wand. “ _ Flipendo _ !” She yelled, and Hux flew backward, landing hard in the dirt.

“Jyn, don’t!” Bodhi shouted, grabbing her arm, but Jyn shrugged him off, stalking towards Hux. His eyes, mocking before, were now wide with fear in the face of Jyn’s wand.

“I’m sorry,” Jyn said, sarcasm coating her voice. “ _ What _ did you just say about my friend?”

Defiance returned to Armitage’s face. “You heard me. He’s a mudblood, and you’re a filthy blood traitor for being friends with him.”

“ _ Engorgio Skullus! _ ” Jyn hissed. Hux cried out in pain, clutching his swelling head. Jyn only smirked. “I’d rather have dirty blood than a head the size of my body, and I’d bet you’d agree right about now.”

Jyn had no time to gloat over her defeat of the bully, however, because, to her dismay, Professor Krennic came striding down the path from the castle. His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him.

“ _ Finite Incantatem _ !” Krennic said as he reached Hux, watching as the swelling stopped and slowly reversed. He turned to face the Gryffindors next. “What the devil is going on here?”

“She attacked me!” Hux gasped, still clutching his head. Jyn sneered at him and his obvious overstatement of his pain. “I was on my way back to the castle and she attacked me!”

“You liar!” Jyn said. “Uncle Orson—“

“ _ Professor Krennic _ at school, Miss Erso,” Krennic all but growled. “I believe you’ll be serving detention with me this week and twenty points from Gryffindor.”

Jyn stared at him, open mouthed. Hux threw racial slurs at Bodhi and  _ she _ was the one getting in trouble?

“Professor, if you’ll only understand…” Wedge began, but Krennic cut him off.

“I believe I know what I saw,” he said, pointing a finger at the Gryffindors. “And I distinctly saw Miss Erso attacking a man that was already down. I will not tolerate such bullying around the school.” With that, he helped Hux back to his feet and continued up the pathway.

“Bullying around the school!” Jyn spat once he was out of earshot. “More like bullying against his Slytherins, the hypocrite.”

“A whole week’s worth of detentions,” Wedge moaned. “That’s horrible, Jyn!”

“And twenty points, too!” Jyn said. “I’m sorry he called you that, Bodhi.”

“Jyn?” Bodhi asked, his voice small and hesitant. “What  _ did _ he call me?”

Jyn’s eyebrows shot up. It hadn’t occurred to her that, since Bodhi grew up around muggles rather than wizards, the word “mudblood” meant nothing to him.

She sighed. “It’s about the worst thing you could call someone. It’s an offense against muggle-borns.”

“Oh,” said Bodhi, his eyes widening. His hands fidgeted. “I-I could tell it was bad – I mean, you wouldn’t react that way to anything  _ nice _ – b-but I didn’t  _ know _ …”

Jyn put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Don’t let it bother you, Bodhi. He’s an idiot and I’m sorry he ruined your birthday.”

“I don’t know,” Bodhi smiled hesitantly. “Seeing his head swell to match his personality was pretty nice.”

Jyn and Wedge laughed, feeling some of the seriousness of the situation float away.

“Come on,” Wedge said, clapping Bodhi on the shoulder. “Maybe we can sneak into the kitchens and convince the house elves to give us some cake.”

They laughed and talked as they finished the journey back to the castle, but Jyn could still see Krennic’s silhouette in the distance. He’d hurt yet another person she loved, and if he thought she would lie down and simply take the blows, he was dead wrong.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And as always, come say hi on tumblr... I'm [RxbxlCaptain](https://rxbxlcaptain.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
